


Getting to Know Yourself

by Thuri



Series: Getting to Know Yourself-verse [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Thomas Sanders
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad Puns, Blow Jobs, Cliffhangers, Edging, Logan's Plan™, M/M, Sexual Dysfunction, Thomas/Logan, Thomas/Patton, Thomas/Roman, Thomas/Virgil, Tickle Fights, accidental date, cursing, dad jokes, fantasy times, lots and lots of cuddles, more negative self-talk, negative self-talk, no jealousy, unexpected self-esteem issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-08 05:39:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11640057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thuri/pseuds/Thuri
Summary: In which Thomas (the fictional, exaggerated version of himself Thomas plays in the videos, not therealThomas) gets to know his sides better than he'd ever expected, and finds out they each have something to teach him about sex, intimacy, and relationships.Heed the rating, there's definitely explicit sex scenes contained within. But also lots of feels, puns, and Roman being unbelievably extra.





	1. Logan

**Author's Note:**

> First, thanks to my amazing beta, BFF, and queer platonic life partner, [RandomSlasher](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Trilliah/pseuds/RandomSlasher). Without them this wouldn't exist, as I got the initial idea from them! And they was an immense help all the way through. Also thanks to [Parsnipit](http://parsnipit.tumblr.com), who is the best cheerleader anyone could ask for! Her flailing gives me life.
> 
> This first chapter is loosely set in fall 2016, but assumes that some of what we see in the SanderSides videos had taken place before Thomas decided to turn it into a series. As such, he knows everyone but Anxiety's name at the beginning.

The best thing about being an adult and living alone in his own apartment, Thomas decided, was being able to spend time with himself. Not _by_ himself, _with_ himself. He never could’ve done this back home with his parents, or with a roommate.

Logan--the cause of Thomas’s idle thought--again frowned at his book, grumbling “That doesn’t make sense!” under his breath, before apparently realizing he was being watched. He looked up, meeting Thomas’s eyes. “Did I...is everything alright?”

“Fine,” Thomas assured him, not wanting to embarrass Logan by pointing out he’d been arguing with a book again. “Do you want something to drink?” he offered instead, pushing himself to his feet and heading to the kitchen.

Logan nodded, and Thomas snagged a soda for each of them, before settling back down on the couch with his laptop. But his editing spell had been broken, for the moment, and he went back to watching Logan read.

Not too long ago, this would’ve been impossible. His sides had always stayed hidden inside him and while he’d known they were there, they hadn’t been able to just...hang out. But now not only could all four of them appear to talk things through, they could do the same individually...and Thomas was grateful for it. For them. For all the work they’d done, in the last few years. 

And for the fact that Logan was just here, reading, something he could have easily done in his own room alone. That he’d rather be with Thomas was...well. It was pretty awesome, if Thomas was going to be honest with himself, and it made him smile again.

They _all_ hung out with him fairly often, actually. Oh, sometimes it was all five of them, having a movie marathon or Mario Kart tournament, but more and more now he got time alone with each of them, too. Quality time, like this, where they were each doing their own thing...though more of that with Logan and Anxiety than with Patton and Roman, he had to admit. Patton and Roman were more...active people to spend time with.

Thomas turned over again, trying to draw his mind back to what he was doing. He’d promised to have a video up soon, and it wasn’t going to finish itself. He managed for another minute or two, before another of Logan’s quiet outbursts distracted him.

He looked up. Logan was curled in the opposite corner of the couch, a mystery novel in his slim hands, his brow furrowed above his thick glasses. Thomas had always found it fascinating how his sides did and yet didn’t look like him...he could recognize parts of himself in Logan, knew others would think they were related, but they weren’t identical by any means. Logan needed the glasses he wore, while Thomas’s eyesight was fine. He was pale and angular where Thomas had a bit more tan--and a bit more padding. Not as much as Patton, though, who had what he laughingly self-described as a ‘Dad Bod.’ He also had the shortest, most sensible haircut and a perpetually sunburned nose. Then there was Roman--the tallest, most muscular of the sides, whose skin was bronzed and long hair bleached by constant quests and adventures--who contrasted sharply with the skinny, pallid Anxiety, whose lanky frame was constantly hunched and closed in and who dyed his shaggy hair deep black streaked in purple.

They all resembled him, but they certainly had their own style.

And Logan right now was a much more interesting sight than Thomas’s laptop. His eyes were bright behind his glasses as he read, gaze flicking quickly back and forth over the lines of the book. He muttered another oath, and this time Thomas couldn’t help but giggle.

Logan looked up, his look of immediate annoyance at being interrupted melting into a slight smile as he met Thomas’s gaze. “How’s the editing going?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the laptop Thomas had pushed aside.

“It’s not,” Thomas admitted, scrunching up his face and flopping back onto the couch. A little dramatically, he had to admit. “I can’t concentrate; I keep getting distracted.”

“By me?” Logan asked, sliding a bookmark into his novel and closing it. “I can leave, if you think that’d…” 

“No, I don’t want you to go,” Thomas cut him off, sitting up and scrubbing a hand back through his hair. “Sorry, Logan, I’m just...restless, I guess.”

“Hmm, so it seems,” Logan agreed, examining him now with all the focus he’d before aimed at his book. “Did you want to explore why? Or look for a solution? The first might even lead to the second, if you’re so inclined.”

“I guess,” Thomas shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m feeling antsy. Kind of out of it.”

“Are you not happy with what you filmed?” Logan asked, shifting to lean forward, his elbows on his knees and his fingers steepled in front of him. “Or worried about its reception? Taking your representations of us from mere characters in your vines and show and giving us a larger role on YouTube is something of a risk, I suppose…”

“No, it’s not that,” Thomas said, shaking his head. It _was_ something of a risk, but he wasn’t particularly worried about it...he’d done little enough on YouTube, and if it didn’t work he could drop the idea, no harm. He’d done his best to impersonate his sides and thought it’d come off well...even if he was the only one who would’ve known if it hadn’t. “I just...I dunno. I can’t concentrate tonight.”

“If it’s not the quality of the video or its reception, then it might not be the work that’s bothering you,” Logan said, mostly to himself, Thomas thought. This was the kind of thing Logan loved most, any kind of puzzle or troubleshooting. Like the time when he’d found half an old screenplay Thomas had thought lost forever. Logan had considered the problem for a few moments, before rattling of a solution--“yes, that computer hard drive was corrupted, but you e-mailed the file to Joan through gmail, which means if you sort your sent folders by date and use a few keywords, you should be able to find the attachment”--in one breath. It was how his mind worked.

And right now, Logan was considering Thomas closely--closely enough that Thomas felt himself flushing a little. He shifted his weight again, and rubbed the back of his neck, fingers scratching at short hairs. He sighed, leaning into his own touch and rubbing away some of the tension gathered there.

“Ah ha!”

Thomas jumped, bringing his hand down to meet Logan’s look of triumph. “Ah what?”

“I have a suggestion,” Logan said, leaning back on the couch, a slight smile on his face now. “It may not get to the root cause of your current restlessness, but it should certainly help in curing it.”

“Sounds good,” Thomas agreed, sitting up straighter. “What?”

“An orgasm.”

Thomas’s face flashed red hot, his cheeks flushing. “Logan!”

“Perhaps more than one.”

Thomas hid his head in his hands, groaning softly. Logan didn’t appear to notice.

“I’d be happy to help you achieve them, if you were interested,” he went on, his clipped voice all too calm. “Considering your excess of restless energy, edging might be the most appropriate technique. Prolonging the experience and postponing the completion should work to…”

“Oh my goodness, Logan, please stop,” Thomas finally managed, still hiding behind his hands. “I mean, I appreciate the thought, but...but…”

“But what?” Logan asked, still too evenly for Thomas’s state of mind. “I am merely a part of you, Thomas, it would ethically be no different than your usual genital stimulation via phallengetic motion. Merely more effective...and likely more enjoyable.”

“I...uh...th-thanks for the offer,” Thomas managed, daring a glance up. Logan looked insufferably calm and collected, like he hadn’t just offered to...to have sex. With Thomas. Did his sides even _have_ libidos? Did they have sex with _each other_? That opened a whole realm of self realization he wasn’t sure he was up for yet. “But, um...I’m not sure…”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to do anything without your enthusiastic consent, of course,” Logan said, shrugging and again curling up in his former place, once again opening his book. “But the offer stands if you’re interested.”

“I...thank you?” Thomas said, forcing himself to pick up his laptop again. Though how he was supposed to go back to editing when he 1) was still restless and 2) was now fighting off an enormous boner, he really didn’t know. 

Thankfully, Logan didn’t stay much longer, excusing himself to go play chess with Roman. Thomas waited until he’d gone, then flopped back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. “My goodness gracious,” he murmured, then repeated it more fervently when the first time didn’t encompass the full range of his current emotional turmoil.

Because Logan had offered to have sex with him. Or at least...to give him an orgasm, which amounted to the same thing. Logan. A part of his own mind. The part that was supposed to have ideas that _made sense_. Roman was the one who dealt in impossibilities and fantastical illusions, and yet…

And yet. Thomas flushed, glancing at the now empty corner of the sofa. Okay, so he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted. Maybe that made him hopelessly self-obsessed and conceited. Maybe it was no surprise he was still single, if he was considering...considering…

Considering what amounted to masturbation, right? So he could make parts of himself take physical form and interact with them. So what? That didn’t change that it would just be him, did it?

Thomas groaned again, realizing that if he was trying to rationalize and think through this logically, he was as good as having Logan talk him into it. All right. Then how did he _feel_ about it?

One poor, neglected portion of his anatomy felt pretty damn happy, but he ignored that. Thankfully his libido had yet to take physical form and he could only hope that would continue to be the case. He really didn’t want to deal with that. But otherwise...well.

Logan _was_ attractive. Maybe Thomas was conceited to think so, since they resembled each other, but...he did. Logan was attractive, Thomas trusted him, and he probably had a point. Thomas hadn’t been with anyone else in...well. Longer than he wanted to admit, even to himself. He rarely spent much time on his own pleasure, either, just as much as it took to quickly finish before falling asleep. The thought of taking that time, doing things thoroughly, being _touched_ by someone else...well. That was really appealing. And would probably relieve the restlessness he’d been feeling.

He rolled over again, grabbing his laptop. Logan had said something about “edging” hadn’t he? Thomas could at least look that up…

Twenty minutes later--after an amusing false start when his first Google search yielded only lawn decorations--Thomas couldn’t deny his interest any longer. He closed his laptop and shifted around to relieve the pressure of his insistent erection. “Okay, okay,” he muttered to it. “I’ll ask him.”

So apparently this was a thing. He was going to have sex...with himself.

Which meant he needed to tell Logan. Thomas closed his eyes, concentrating his thoughts for a moment. _Logan_?

The sense of Logan’s presence became sharper as Thomas reached for him in the mindscape, until Thomas could hear him muttering something about castling and rooks, and the mental image of Logan and Roman seated on either side of an elaborate chess set filled his mind. 

They must be in a part the mindscape Roman had designed, Thomas decided, as the image became clearer. Though the room around them was a library, it was incredibly grand, all dark, polished woods and heavy oaken furniture. A fire crackled in a stone fireplace, and Roman was sprawled in a velvet trimmed chair, wearing a scarlet doublet open at the throat, a white linen shirt showing beneath it, and high black boots over leather breeches. One leg was hitched over the arm and he held a crystal goblet negligently in one hand. 

Logan, in contrast, was in his usual polo shirt and tie, sitting straight up in his own chair, his attention focused on the board in front of him, an anachronistic note in the Renaissancian scene. He looked up, when Thomas sent out a tendril of shy thought. “Thomas? Do you need me?”

 _Only when you’re done_ , Thomas thought to them. _No hurry_.

“He’ll be vanquished soon enough,” Roman drawled, taking a drink from the goblet that on second glance appeared to be filled not with wine, but Mountain Dew. 

“We’ll see about that,” Logan replied crisply.

Thomas grinned and left them to it, pulling his mind away from the image and back to his own living room. Okay. No hurry, then...maybe he could get a bit more of this video cut together before...before Logan was ready.

It was a fruitless hope, but at least trying distracted him a little from the thoughts whirling around in his brain. And he did manage to reblog quite a few things on Tumblr before Logan appeared, a satisfied smirk on his face. “He never learns,” he said, settling himself down on the couch. “So what can I do for you?”

Thomas took a quick moment to make sure Patton was aware of Roman’s loss and on hand to deal with it if necessary, before pushing himself up. “You, um...you made an offer, earlier?”

“I did,” Logan agreed evenly, once again giving Thomas a quick once over, his smirk deepening.

“I, uh...I thought about it,” Thomas said, deciding it wasn’t fair Logan could look so hot smirking like that. He was fairly sure that he himself never looked that good. “And did some Googling. And...um...please?”

Logan’s smirk softened into a gentler smile. “If this is what you want, Thomas, I’ll be happy to. From the research I’ve done, I think it could be fairly effective, and enjoyable. We have the added advantage that I’ll be able to assess your current state of arousal much more clearly than a partner who wasn’t a part of you, and act accordingly.”

Thomas swallowed, his cock twitching hard at Logan’s words. Did that mean Logan could sense that, too? “That’s...yes,” he agreed, nodding hard. “This is what I want. If you’re...I mean, you’re right, it’s just me...helping myself, right?”

“Exactly,” Logan agreed, standing up and offering Thomas his hand. “Shall we move this to the bedroom? I imagine you’ll be more comfortable there.”

Thomas distantly hoped that Anxiety wasn’t aware of exactly why his heart had suddenly started pounding like a jackhammer as he took Logan’s hand and let him pull him up. All the sides might find out about this eventually, but Thomas really didn’t want to think of the rest of them watching while he was with Logan. “Okay,” he agreed, taking a deep breath. _Just try to stay calm, and he won’t have to find out…_

Thankfully, none of the rest of them appeared as Thomas followed Logan upstairs and into his room. Logan paused to let Thomas go in front of him, and when he turned to look back, Logan was loosening his tie, his head tilted back, a look of anticipation in his eyes.

Thomas swallowed hard, again twitching in his jeans. “Should I...how do you want me?”

Logan finished pulling the tie free, dropping it onto the bedside table. “On the bed,” he replied, before reaching down and tugging off his shirt, leaving him topless, his hair tousled. “And eventually naked, though we can work up to that if you need.”

“No, I’m...I’m good,” Thomas replied, his mouth suddenly dry. Logan was slim and pale, his bones cutting soft planes under his skin, making Thomas’s fingers itch to follow them.

“Glad to hear it,” Logan replied, crossing over to him, incredibly close, his fingers coming up to gently cup Thomas’s jaw. He leaned in and pressed a soft, almost chaste kiss against his lips that nevertheless made Thomas’s knees turn to water. “Let’s get you ready,” Logan murmured, as he pulled back again.

In very little time he managed to undress Thomas, despite the fact that Thomas couldn’t seem to make himself any help at all. He felt awkward and ungainly next to Logan’s cool confidence, but Logan didn’t seem to mind, at least. He just helped free Thomas from the snare his t-shirt had become and popped loose the button fly of his jeans, stepping back to let Thomas step out of them.

He did, leaving them crumpled on the floor, finding himself in only his underwear. Logan still wore his own slacks, and Thomas reached for him, grabbing a belt loop and pulling him in close, sighing when their bare chest pressed together. “Hello,” he murmured, the touch grounding him, reassuring him. This was Logan, this was _him_...there was nothing to be afraid of here.

“Hello,” Logan replied, his smirk back in place. “I would’ve thought us past a greeting at this point.”

Thomas grinned, before pressing his lips against Logan’s again in a kiss that was significantly less chaste than the last, giving in to his urge to run his hands up Logan’s back. Logan’s skin was cool, smooth, and felt wonderful beneath his fingers. “Sometimes you talk too much,” he said, when he at last pulled away again.

“So you’ve said,” Logan agreed easily, gently pushing Thomas back against the bed. “Lie down.”

Thomas did as he was told, feeling a gentle thrill go through him as Logan took charge so easily. He rested back against his pillows as Logan climbed up and straddled him, settling on his thighs. 

“Now,” Logan said, in a tone that told Thomas very clearly he was about to lecture. “Edging, or orgasm control, can be accomplished in several different ways.” Going to lecture about sexual techniques, apparently. And why was that so flipping hot? “But at its core, its purpose is to both increase stamina and the quality of orgasm that can be achieved. While this is a worthwhile goal on its own, it can also be used very successfully as a method to tease a partner, bringing them just to the brink of completion and then denying them release, over and over and over. It’s a common practice in the BDSM community, albeit one that has its benefits even outside power play.”

Logan paused, leaning forward, looming over Thomas, his hair falling down over his forehead as he again fit his lips to Thomas’s, pressing in against him. This time, Thomas whimpered, mouth falling open and Logan took the invitation. The coolness of his lips gave way to the wet heat of his mouth and Thomas arched up, feeling Logan’s chest against his own as their tongues slid against each other.

“It can be achieved,” Logan continued when they broke apart, his usually clipped, precise voice now somewhat husky, “in several ways. I intend to employ the simplest, for now.” His hand slid between them, and closed around Thomas’s erection, startlingly warm even through his underwear. 

Thomas groaned, his head falling back as his hips tilted up, pressing into Logan’s touch. “Oh _fuck…_ ” he moaned, a rare curse escaping his lips at the sensation. Logan may claim this was no different than masturbating, but his body felt it like the long missed touch of another.

“Perhaps next time, Thomas, if you find this agreeable and want to pursue something further,” Logan replied, his hand sliding slowly up, then back down Thomas’s length. “But for now this is sufficient.”

Thomas’s hips jerked up at the idea, the implication that Logan would eventually want to… He forced his mind away from the thought, concentrating instead on the here and now, as Logan began speaking again.

“While arousal can be measured many ways, for our current purposes I believe a sliding scale of one to ten will suffice,” he went on, his voice somehow still steady, even as he was driving Thomas to distraction. “One being completely unaroused, and ten being the experience of an orgasm. Our goal is to keep you between perhaps four and eight for as long as you can stand, though if possible we want to venture up to nine, right before the point of no return when orgasm is an inevitability. I’d judge you at a perhaps a six right now, yes?”

“I...yeah, I think so,” Thomas managed, though he wondered how Logan expected him to think at _all_ , when his fingers were doing _that_. They squeezed slowly along his length, up and down again, from just below the head back to the root. Each long, slow stroke had his hips rising to meet it, a swell of frustration going through him when it ended too soon.

“Then we have a way to go,” Logan smirked, twisting his wrist, the rough slide of the fabric between them burning through Thomas and making him groan again. “You are _fascinating_ , Thomas,” Logan murmured in response, the lecturing tone missing from his voice. 

“I...what?” Thomas forced his eyes open, to find Logan still poised over him, examining him closely.

“Watching you respond to this stimulus,” and with that Logan twisted his wrist again, pulling another whimpering moan from Thomas’s chest, his hips canting up, “seeing the reactions it produces, distantly feeling your experience...it’s utterly fascinating.” Logan kissed him again, hand increasing its pace as he fit his mouth over Thomas’s.

Thomas thrust his hips upwards, eagerly meeting the quickened, burning slide of Logan’s hand, even as he tried to kiss back. Worries about his own performance and the swell of embarrassment that’d met Logan’s last remarks were forgotten in the growing heat and pressure within him as his breathing sped up, as he felt himself growing closer, closer…

And then Logan stopped, his fingers curved firmly around the base of Thomas’s cock, perfectly still.

“Nooooo…” Thomas whined, hips shuddering upward but finding no increased sensation for it. He opened his eyes--when had they closed?--to find Logan watching him, eyes as bright behind his glasses as any puzzle had ever made them. “Logan, _please…_ ”

“Fear not, Thomas, I will allow you to reach completion before I’m through,” Logan replied, voice all too steady for Thomas’s fractured nerves. “But we’re only beginning.” And despite Thomas’s squirming thrusts, his hand stayed traitorously still, withholding the last bit of friction and sensation Thomas needed to fall over the edge. “Breathe deeply.”

Thomas pouted but obeyed, catching his breath, the sharp need fading somewhat as he slowly inhaled and exhaled again. He’d agreed to this, yes, but he hadn’t realized it’d be so immediately frustrating. “How...how many times are you going to…?”

“As many as it takes,” Logan replied infuriatingly. “Continue breathing, and let yourself experience every sensation in your body right now. Feel the arousal receding, calm replacing it...good.”

Thomas felt his cheeks warm at the word of praise, but did as Logan said, concentrating on his breathing, on the sensations running through him. And yeah, okay, this was...really nice. He didn’t usually spend much time in this state, not when his goal most recently had been the finish itself. He felt himself relaxing into the mattress.

“ _Very_ good,” Logan murmured, his hand slowly beginning to move again, once more sliding along Thomas’s length. “We’ll aim to take you a bit further this time, a bit closer. Be as fully present as you can; it will enhance the experience. Feel your pulse quicken, your breathing become faster again. Feel your skin flush, your muscles tighten. I can feel your thighs tensing between my legs, Thomas, and see the slight spasms of your abdomen. You’re becoming more aroused in response to my touch, my words, and your body is reacting.”

And yes, fuck yes, it was. Thomas wasn’t sure what was hotter, Logan’s hand moving over him, firm enough to make his breath catch but loose enough to slide over him with each thrust of his hips, or the things that Logan was _saying_. Somehow, the bare physical facts of arousal had never sounded so incredibly sexy. Thomas was certain he could get off just listening to Logan, right now, if he kept talking, his voice gone softly husky as he spoke. “ _Logan_ …”

“You’re climbing higher again,” Logan went on, his pace increasing. “Good, keep concentrating on what you’re feeling, on what’s happening. Your balls drawing up tight, your body preparing for emission.”

Thomas was pretty sure he was going to be embarrassed later at what those simple, technical words did to him, but that didn’t stop him from letting loose a whimpering cry, his hips arching up as Logan stroked, squeezed, took him so close, so close Thomas could almost feel himself falling, so very very close…

And then stopped.

Again.

“Ahhh!” Thomas cried out in frustration, fingers digging into the blankets at his sides, his toes curling and uncurling, his whole body reaching, _reaching_ for resolution. “ _Please_ …please, Logan, please…” he babbled, dropping heavily back to the mattress as his sought after orgasm seemed to flow back into his body, a backwards rush of warmth and frustration. “Please, I’m not sure I can make it again, please…”

“You’re doing wonderfully, Thomas,” Logan assured him, kissing his open, panting mouth once again, the fingers of his free hand smoothing over Thomas’s chest, soothingly. “We’ll stop the moment you want, of course, but don’t doubt yourself. You are doing very well, and I know you can manage more than this.”

“I don’t...I’m not…” Thomas swallowed, forcing himself to again bring his breathing under control, to find that calm moment that’d allowed him to relax before. Logan thought he could do this. Logan knew intimately what was happening to him, and been describing it only moments before. “I want to,” he admitted, softly, not able to meet Logan’s eyes. He wanted to do what Logan thought he could, wanted to make him proud. “I’m not sure if I...if I can. But I want to.”

“Then you will,” Logan said simply. He shifted his weight, rising off Thomas long enough to pull his underwear off and away, and to reach into the bedside table for a bottle of lube. Thomas groaned, his legs falling open as he watched Logan flip the top off the small bottle and dribble the contents over his fingers. It’d been a strong enough feeling through the fabric, how was he supposed to keep from coming instantly when that slim, cool hand was wrapped around him with nothing in the way?

Apparently he was about to find out. Logan settled between Thomas’s legs and once again wrapped his hand gently around his cock, sliding his fingers to just below the head, then back down. “Are you ready?”

Thomas let out a long, breathy moan, his stomach spasming, almost pulling him up from the bed at the rush of heat that ran through him in response to Logan’s touch. “I...yeah,” he managed, brokenly, tossing one arm over his face as Logan set to work again.

Thomas half expected him to let him finish that time, the third time, completing the rule of three. And he definitely had expected it the time after that. But when Logan brought him right to the brink, right to the moment that one breath later would be the end, he took him right back down again, every time. Thomas gave up trying to count, to anticipate, and let himself be lost in the sea of sensation, in a growing heavy, glorious warmth that spread all through him.

He lost the last of his embarrassed reserve, lost the hesitation in moving and crying out in response to Logan’s touch, lost everything but the feeling of floating always nearer but not quite at his peak.

But it wasn’t until he’d stopped expecting the end that Logan finally brought him to it. Several times Thomas had felt himself almost, almost crest, almost slide over, but only when he’d given up looking for it, given in to experiencing the sensations running through him instead, only when finishing no longer felt like the goal did Logan’s touch not only not slow, but increase, his strokes now going over the head, gathering the moisture that’d leaked from him and using its slick in combination with the lube. “Now, Thomas. Finish. _Now_.”

And finish he did. Thomas cried out, the force of his climax hitting him harder than he could ever remember before, a long, wrenching spasm that seemed to begin at his toes and coil upward, upward, until it exploded out of him in a flash of heat and pleasure almost nearing pain in its intensity. He arched, spilling over Logan’s fingers again, and again, his entire body clenched tight in the throes.

It went on and on, until he wasn’t sure he hadn’t passed out or lost touch completely. But at last everything seemed to slide back to reality and he sank into the mattress, his muscles burning and heavy, his body sore and sated. “Oh…”

“Hmm,” he heard Logan murmur, from very far away. “This was perhaps more intense than I intended. Your nervous energy is gone, but I’m not certain you have any left for editing, either.”

Thomas chuckled, softly, opening his eyes to find Logan gazing sheepishly down at him. “S’okay,” he murmured hoarsely. “Think I can forgive you.”

“Good,” Logan said firmly, leaning down to give him a tender kiss. “Lie still, I’ll clean up.”

Thomas was pretty sure he didn’t have much of a choice, but did as Logan said, letting his eyes drift closed. He groaned softly when Logan returned and gently ran a warm washcloth over his tender skin, but managed a smile when Logan apologized.

He stopped him, though, when Logan offered to leave, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “You can...I’d like you to stay. If you want.”

“I think I’d like that, Thomas, thank you,” Logan agreed. Thomas let himself drift, but not quite fall asleep, until he felt Logan sliding into bed next to him, pulling the blanket up around them both. “You did very well.”

Thomas smiled, rolling over to cuddle up against Logan, smushing his face against Logan’s chest. “That mean I get an ‘A’ for the day?” he murmured sleepily as Logan wrapped an arm around him, his fingers moving lazily over Thomas’s arm.

He felt more than heard Logan’s laugh, right beneath his ear. “I think this qualifies as an A plus at least,” Logan agreed. “And we’ll discuss the ethical implications of sleeping with your professor some other time. Sleep, Thomas. You need rest.”

And once again, Thomas obeyed.


	2. Patton

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter couldn't have happened without [RandomSlasher](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Trilliah/pseuds/RandomSlasher). They write an AMAZING Patton, and helped me SO MUCH to get him right here. Hence the co-writing credit, because they're the best, most amazing writing partner/beta/bff/everything. Thank you again!
> 
> And so many thanks to [Parsnipit](http://parsnipit.tumblr.com) whose cheerleading gives me life.

"See, kiddo, you didn't burn down the apartment after all." Patton leaned back in his chair, pushing his empty plate toward the middle of the table. "And that was _delicious_."

"While I wouldn't normally trust the opinion of someone whom I've seen use ice cream as a pizza topping, I have to admit he is correct in this instance," Logan agreed, taking sip from his wine glass. "This was an _excellent_ meal, Thomas, thank you."

"Aww...guys, thanks," Thomas replied, his cheeks flushing hot. He'd admit to himself everything had turned out pretty well, though he didn't know how impressive a meal salmon, asparagus and rice pilaf actually was. And the rice had come in a mix; all he'd really had to do was add it to boiling water. But it tasted good, and that was the most important part, he supposed. "I appreciate you being my guinea pigs."

"I'll _pig_ out any time you want me to, Thomas," Patton said, eyes twinkling at his own pun, even as Logan groaned. "You think you could _guinea_ some more of that wine?"

Thomas laughed. "I think that one was a bit of a stretch, but okay," he agreed, refilling Patton's glass with the Chardonnay Logan had helped him pick out. 

"Are you really going to mar the pleasant aftermath of good food by butchering the English language?" Logan shuddered. 

"What's the matter, Logan?" Patton asked. "Can't take the _pun_ ishment? Am I too darn _pun_ ny for you? Don't like being _pun_ nelled?"

"No, I do not," Logan rolled his eyes. "Thomas, thank you for an excellent meal, but if you don't mind, I'll leave you and Patton to continue undermining the entire _concept_ of clear communication by yourselves."

Thomas managed to keep from grinning, knowing Logan probably wouldn't appreciate it. "I think we can handle that on our own, yeah."

"Then I'm leaving." 

"Goodbye, Leaving," Patton said cheerfully, as Logan sank out of sight with another long suffering groan. "He really needs to learn to have more fun," he added, turning back to Thomas, his grin turning into a rueful smile. "We'll just have to keep trying, won't we?"

"Guess so," Thomas agreed, cheeks flushing as he thought of what he'd mostly been doing with Logan lately. He was pretty sure Patton wouldn't count that. "Thanks again, for encouraging me on the cooking," he said, standing and starting to clear the table.

"I knew you could do it if you tried," Patton said, picking up his own plate and handing it to Thomas. "Want a little help with the clean up?"

"I won't say no." Thomas carried the stacked dishes into the kitchen, setting them on the counter. 

But it took barely any time, as he'd cleaned up while he was cooking, and all too soon the dishwasher was loaded, the counters were clean, the leftovers were put away, and he had nothing to do with his hands. Instead he was just sitting on the couch, with Patton, alone. And feeling vaguely guilty. Like he might be in trouble.

Which of _course_ Patton would pick up on. And the more Thomas worried about it, the faster he would, and…

"Something bothering you, buddy?"

"No, no...I'm good." Patton just kept looking at him, gentle, open acceptance and welcome on his face, and Thomas's Catholic guilt kicked in. "I mean...there's...maybe a little...kind of?"

Patton nodded, and a subtle change came over him as his smile softened. When he spoke, his tone was very kind, gentle, and more serious than Thomas was used to hearing it. "You know you can talk to me about anything, Thomas. I'm not just here for dad jokes and puppies."

"I know," Thomas said, squirming a little. And he did, he just...this wasn't like admitting he couldn't adult as well as he should be able to at his age. He didn't really mind when Patton teased him about that, or pointed out--correctly--that he needed to work on it. This was...well. He didn't know what Patton would think of this, and he didn't want to disappoint him. Patton's disappointment was more cutting than even Anxiety's cruelest rant. "Um. Well...for the last few weeks, Logan and I…um...we've..."

"Been having sex," Patton finished for him when Thomas trailed off. 

Thomas gaped at him. "You _knew_?"

"Thomas, I _am_ a part of you," Patton pointed out. "I feel what you're feeling. But Logan talked to me about it, too. He wanted to be sure you'd enjoyed it as much as he did."

"Oh." Thomas rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, his cheeks flaming. While it was actually pretty sweet Logan had checked on him like that, the realization was completely overshadowed by the fact that Patton had already known. Had on some level felt it. Which meant Roman and Anxiety must've, too. Oh man, they _all_ _knew_. "Um. You're not upset? You don't...think it's weird?"

"We're a wonderfully weird bunch already, Thomas, what's a little more?" Patton waved off his concern. "You're not doing anything wrong, everyone involved is of age, is enthusiastically consenting, and sex isn't something to be ashamed of, especially not when everyone's enjoying it."

"I...I guess not," Thomas said slowly, letting some of the worry that'd been plaguing him drain away. "I mean...of course it's not, I just didn't...I guess I didn't think of it like that. I mean...Logan's not like...it's not like I'm asking for your approval of a new boyfriend, he's…"

"He's part of you," Patton said gently. "And you're worried about what that means, worried how the rest of us will take it, and worried how _he'll_ take it if you find another human to be with. Or even want to stop being with him. Am I right?"

Thomas left out a huff of relieved laughter, as Patton put his vague, half-formed mush of feelings into something concrete. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am."

"And you can't talk to Logan about it too much, because he's still dealing with the fact he _has_ feelings." Patton nodded. "That's a lot to be holding in, kiddo. You want a hug?"

Thomas's throat closed, eyes welling a little with just how _much_ he did. "Yeah," he replied, pushing himself to his feet and letting Patton pull him in close, his arms enfold him. Thomas rested his head against Patton's shoulder, sliding his arms around him and burrowing in, feeling Patton's hand come up, cupping the back of his head. 

"There you are," Patton murmured, holding him close for a long, long moment, waiting to let Thomas pull away when he was ready. "Better?"

Thomas nodded, finding he was. "Yeah...yeah. Thanks."

"Any time, buddy." Patton sat back on the couch and patted the cushion beside him. "C'mere." 

Thomas did, snuggling up against Patton, resting his head on his shoulder as Patton wrapped an arm around him. A long sigh escaped him as he relaxed, feeling perfectly comfortable and perfectly safe.

"Now," Patton said, his fingers running gently through Thomas's hair. "First off, Logan loves you, he's devoted to you, and he's really enjoying all this. But Thomas, he's still _logic_. And it makes perfectly logical sense that this won't be enough for you, that you'll still want to find this kind of closeness with another human. He's not going to blame you for that--none of us will! But he might encourage you to try out some of the things he's teaching you, when you do."

Thomas snorted softly. "Yeah," he agreed, "that does sound like him. I guess...he wouldn't really be jealous, when he'd still be there, huh?"

"Exactly," Patton said. "Besides, we don't really get jealous of each other or your friends. Well...Roman might, a little, but only because it gives him a good excuse to make a speech and you know how much he loves that. Even Anxiety isn't jealous. He's just…"

"Yeah," Thomas agreed. Anxiety was just...anxiety. It wasn't the same thing. "Okay. I guess...I mean, that all makes sense." 

"Good," Patton said firmly. "Now. Are you enjoying what you and Logan are doing? Are you having fun?"

Thomas blinked. "Fun?" he repeated, a little surprised. Because, well...of all the words he would have thought of to describe sex with Logan, fun would've been pretty far down the list, if it made it at all. Hot, good, intense, yes, but...fun? Fun was silliness and carnivals and ridiculous jokes and Disneyland, it wasn't...well. It wasn't what he and Logan had been doing. "I mean, I like it, but…"

"Oh Thomas…" Patton shook his head, giving Thomas a little squeeze. "It's been all serious business with you two, hasn't it? You need to loosen up!"

"With _Logan_?" Thomas asked, alarmed, imagining Logan's face if he broke out with a knock-knock joke in the middle of things.

"No, no, not with Logan," Patton agreed hurriedly. "That would...you're right, that would _not_ go well. No, you and Logan have a good thing between you. But there are a lot of different approaches to sex, Thomas, and Logan's not the only one around."

Thomas pulled away to stare at him, even more alarmed than at the suggestion of joking with Logan during sex. "What...what are you saying?" 

Patton smiled at him, and shook his head. "Hey, kiddo, it's okay," he said. "I was just saying--well, I'm here, too, if you ever wanted to try something a little different. But I'm never interested in doing anything if you're not completely on board." 

Thomas felt honestly floored for a moment, mouth agape. Was...was _Patton..._ was _Morality_ actually suggesting--?

"There's nothing immoral about sex, kiddo," Patton said. "And, as you've pointed out a time or two...you're not _actually_ my son." 

"No, you're…you're _me_ ," Thomas stammered, shelving for now the question of how Patton had seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. "But…" 

"But what?" 

"I dunno, I just...I guess I never thought about you...doing...sex?" 

Patton threw his head back and laughed. He laughed hard and long, and it was so contagious that Thomas couldn't help but grin. Soon he was laughing too, so hard his sides hurt and his face felt sore from the stretch of his grin. 

"Doing sex. Oh, Thomas," Patton said, taking his glasses off to rub his eyes, which had begun to leak tears. "I love you so much." 

Thomas grinned sheepishly. "I love you, too," he said, and suddenly, he ached with just how true those words were. This was _Patton_ , this was his goofy, loveable side--the side with a heart as big as the whole state, who cried at the end of every Disney movie ever (hell, he even cried at the end of some commercials) and cooed over kittens and puppies because they were "so darned small!" and joked with the others and never, ever failed to make Thomas smile. If he was saying sex could be fun--if he was offering to show Thomas how that could be--well...Thomas couldn't deny he was interested. 

Very interested. 

Patton smiled at him, tilting his head, and nodded, reaching out to cup Thomas's cheek. "I know you do, kiddo," he said. "I know." 

Thomas bit his lip, shifting a little, then said, "I...so, um...what you said…" 

Patton arched his eyebrows. "Yes?" 

Thomas flushed. "I'd be...you know. Interested. If you want."

Patton beamed. "I'd very much want," he agreed. "When you're ready. If that's now, great. If that's tomorrow, perfect. And Thomas? If that's never--that's great, too. I love you no matter what. Okay?" 

Thomas nodded, and the last of his hesitation melting away. He smiled, then grinned. "Yeah. I--I'm sure. So...um." He rubbed the back of his neck. "What--what do I…?" 

Patton grinned. "Well," he said, "we could start with a kiss, if you want?" 

"Okay. Yeah--yeah, okay." Thomas nodded, sliding a little closer to Patton on the couch. He felt awkward, not sure where to put his hands; after a second, he settled for placing them lightly on Patton's shoulders, like an awkward teenager dancing at prom. He made a face at himself, and Patton giggled, reaching out to touch the tip of Thomas's nose. 

Then he leaned in, and Thomas let his eyes drift closed in anticipation. 

When Logan kissed him, it had been business--and then it had been _heat_ , scathing and full of command. 

Patton, though...Patton was completely different. Patton's kiss was _playful_. 

He began by pressing a few light, teasing pecks to Thomas's pursed lips, coaxing a smile, which he then covered with his own. He pulled Thomas's lower lip into his mouth and gave it the gentlest of friendly nibbles, then dabbed at it with the tip of his tongue. Thomas found himself giggling, and he felt the staccato of Patton's breath against his mouth, and heard the low click of his answering chuckle in his throat. 

When Patton deepened the kiss, Thomas sighed, relaxing into his arms, and opening his mouth on a soft moan. Patton leaned in, exploring with his tongue, tracing the roof of Thomas's mouth ticklishly before drawing back again. 

When Thomas finally had to come up for air, he realized that Patton had pushed them back onto the couch, and that Thomas was now lying on his back with Patton looming over him, their chests pressed together, Patton's hips resting within the cradle of Thomas's open thighs. They both still wore all their clothing, but Thomas could feel the line of Patton's arousal against his hip. His own, equally amorous, lay gently throbbing in the confines of his pants, and he paused a moment to marvel that he could have gotten so hard without even noticing. 

"Wow," he breathed softly, mouth twitching up slightly. 

Patton smirked, and nuzzled their noses together. "Yeah. Wow," he agreed. 

"What should I...I mean...what's next?" Thomas asked, reaching up to run his hands along Patton's sides, the fabric of his shirt ruffling under his fingers.

"Whatever we want," Patton replied, dropping more small, quick kisses over his face. "That's the best part. We can kiss, we could get naked, we could stop and watch TV...it's all fair game. But I wouldn't say no to wearing a few less clothes."

Thomas giggled, tugging Patton's shirt free of his slacks. "Okay," he agreed easily, sliding his hands under the fabric this time, over Patton's soft, warm skin. Patton dropped a kiss against his lips, then pushed himself up enough for Thomas to tug his shirt up and off, his cardigan falling to the floor with it. He had a bit of a farmer's tan, the skin usually hidden by his shirt paler than his arms and throat. Thomas reached up, tracing his hands over Patton's chest, and down to the soft curve of his stomach. 

"Mmmm, hi."

"Hullo to you, too, kiddo." Patton grinned at him, then giggled when Thomas's hands skated lightly over his side again. "Tickles."

Thomas laughed, laying his palms flat against Patton's skin to stop the inadvertent tickling. Though the fact that Patton _was_ ticklish was nearly unbearably adorable. "Sorry."

"I don't mind," Patton assured him. "Just fair warning."

"You don't mind?" Thomas asked, grinning again. "Well then…" He lifted his hands, then dove in, tickling alone Patton's sides, following him to roll to the floor when he squirmed, laughing loudly--but not saying stop.

At last they ended up sprawled on the carpet, Patton still giggling breathlessly, sprawled on his back with Thomas over him, his head thrown back, his eyes watering, looking as purely and wonderfully happy as Thomas had ever seen him.

And yeah...yeah, okay. Maybe this could be fun, too.

Tickle truce having been declared, their touches again became soft, exploratory and gentle. Patton helped Thomas slide his own shirt off, gently kissing his exposed shoulders, then chest. Thomas leaned back, as Patton moved lower, kissing a line down to his belly...where he promptly pressed his lips against Thomas's skin and blew a loud raspberry.

Thomas let out a shriek of laughter, doubling up around his middle. "Patton!"

Patton merely grinned at him and did it again. Thomas squirmed out from under him, then gave Patton a playful glare. "I'll get you for that!" 

Patton beamed. "Please do." 

* * *

Hours later, curled up close in bed with Patton's sleeping--and gently snoring--form, Thomas had to admit that he'd been right. Sex could be fun--incredible amounts of fun. They had eventually both had an orgasm, but not before more giggle fits than Thomas had ever expected, caused by everything from unexpected ticklish spots, to silly noises their bodies made, to Thomas bonking his head against the coffee table (it hadn't hurt, thankfully, but it'd taken nearly five minutes for them to bring themselves back under control enough to continue). 

Sex with Logan had been incredible, but it was...it was very much like Logan himself. Technical, skilled, even cerebral, for all that it included incredible sensations. So it was no surprise sex with Patton had been at once fun and loving, hilarious and kind, joyful and reassuring. He hadn't been nervous at all, not with Patton there to show him the way and remind him to enjoy the journey.

And with Patton the orgasm had never been the _goal_. Instead, as he'd said, it'd been about enjoying every moment along the way. "After all, kiddo," he'd said with a grin, "you don't go skydiving for the landing!"

Thomas grinned, pressing closer to Patton, giggling silently when he mumbled something about sugared potatoes. He still couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact this had _happened_...but he was incredibly glad it had. 


	3. Roman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to my amazing beta, BFF, and queer platonic life partner, [RandomSlasher](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Trilliah/pseuds/RandomSlasher).
> 
> Also thanks to [Parsnipit](http://parsnipit.tumblr.com), who is the best cheerleader anyone could ask for!

“Patton, too? Truly, _Patton_?”

Thomas jumped, his toothbrush falling into the sink with a clatter as Roman appeared without warning, the sword belted at his waist slapping the shower curtain aside as his presence filled the small bathroom.

“First Logan and now Patton...Thomas, have you forgotten _I_ am your romantic side? I am the dashing, daring, devilishly handsome prince?” Roman planted one booted foot on the closed toilet lid, his cape swept back to one side, looking every inch the romantic hero he called himself. The effect was only slightly marred by the cramped space and bad lighting. “I am the doer of great deeds and romancer of noble princes. I demand to be given a fair chance, here!”

Thomas spit his mouthful of toothpaste into the sink. He wasn’t sure he was awake enough for this. “Um...okay?”

“It is _not_ okay, it is a travesty! If you’re going to bestow your affections amongst us, how can you have overlooked _me_?”

“Oh Roman...I’m sorry.” Thomas could wish he wasn’t having this conversation with toothpaste foam spread around his lips and dripping down his chin, but reassuring Roman was more important than worrying about how he looked while doing it. “I haven’t meant to, I promise.”

“Perhaps not intentionally,” Roman agreed grudgingly. “But Thomas, if you give me a chance, I could show you such...such wonderful things. Will you?”

“Of course, Roman, just...can I wash my face first?”

* * *

The soft susurrus of rain on canvas roused Thomas from his gentle slumber. Grey, nearly silver light filtered through the tent walls and the pine scent of ancient woods and damp earth filled the air. Thomas stirred, shifted his weight and the arms of his shieldmate, his brother-in-arms, his _prince_ tightened around him. He sighed as he pressed back into the beloved embrace, content to know that today, at least, they were safe and together. What trials their quest might bring, what dangers and unasked for partings lay ahead, for now there was only this.

“Really, Roman?” Thomas asked in a whisper as the flowery language invaded his thoughts, despite his efforts to think clearly.

“Hush,” Roman hissed back under his breath. “My room, my rules.”

“All right.” Thomas felt a welling of amused and gentle affection fill him, as he conceded to his prince’s wish. Nor did he find it over hard to lose himself in the grandeur of the scene, awash though it was with archaic formality. “My apologies, my love, I was o’ertaken with the joy of being here with thee.” _Thee?_

“So too have others been,” Roman returned, kissing the back of Thomas’s neck, pulling him in closer. “But never has there been another who filled me with such feelings in turn. Thomas, my love, my own, I treasure every moment we two can steal from the world and take for ourselves.”

“As do I,” Thomas assured him, turning in his arms to face him.

“I swear to thee that when I have won back my throne, thou shalt rule with me, and we two shall never again part, our lives and souls intertwined together as surely as ever our bodies have been.” In his prince’s glistening eyes, love and determination shone with equal weight, adoration and steel together, each as much a part of his love as the other. Thomas’s heart swelled to see it, to see the majesty of the one before him. His prince, who never faltered, who was as handsome as he was kind, who Thomas loved so it filled his heart and mind. “And we two shall…”

“Roman,” Thomas interrupted, forcefully pushing away the imagery, the stilted language, and implanted ideas as more mundane--but real--worry and concern took their place. Something wasn’t right here. “Isn’t this a bit...much?”

Roman sighed heavily, pouting at him as the tent, the bedroll, and the enchanted forest melted away, leaving them no longer lying together but abruptly standing a few feet apart. Thomas stumbled, catching his balance at the sudden change of position only to find himself in the library he had briefly seen Roman and Logan in before. 

Roman turned away from him to collapse into his velvet trimmed chair. And though he again hooked one leg carelessly over the arm, he now looked more sullen than relaxed. “Fine. I suppose it might have been a teensy bit over the top.”

“You think?” Thomas asked, glancing around the library. It was pretty extra on its own, with floor to ceiling bookshelves, ancient tomes crowded in cheek by jowl with cheap paperbacks, hardcovers, and scripts. Thomas recognized most of the titles, realizing this appeared to be a collection of everything he’d ever read. There was even large section of huge binders with names like Tumblr, Facebook, and Twitter on them, actual apparent paper copies of the websites he frequented.

Thomas shook off his distraction and turned to the fireplace that dominated one wall, burning cheerfully away, the light tossing dancing shadows over both the chairs set before it and Roman’s frowning face. “I know we were headed to your room, but I wasn’t expecting Shakespeare.”

“Hardly that,” Roman snorted, scraping a hand back through his thick mane of hair. “A poor imitation at best. But I promised to show you wonderful, grand things, and the setting seemed appropriate.”

“You can still do that without all the thees and thous,” Thomas pointed out. He crossed over to sit in the chair beside Roman’s, leaning forward to try to meet Roman’s eyes. But the prince avoided his gaze, still staring at the flames. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the effort, believe me. And I think it’d be a lot of fun to go on an adventure with you, to be knights on a quest. But we don’t...we don’t have to pretend to be other people for me to want to spend this kind of time with you.”

Roman glanced at him and his frown deepened. “Yet you so enjoy pretending to be someone you’re not when on stage. I had thought an epic tale of swords and sorcery in which we indulged that urge would be to your liking.”

“I would’ve agreed with you,” Thomas admitted, trying to pinpoint why he _hadn’t_ been enjoying the elaborate fantasy Roman had conjured up. It hadn’t just been the change in his thinking, it’d been...something deeper. Not just the words Roman had had him thinking, but the way...the way Roman had been presenting himself. “But as soon as we’re playing roles, we’re not...us.” He frowned, feeling like he was dancing around the edge of something important, but just not able to see it. _Where’s Logan when you need him?_ “You said you didn’t want me to overlook you,” he went on slowly, working it out as he spoke. “I guess I just want to be sure I don’t. That I’m with _you_. You, Roman, not...not some imaginary prince on an epic quest to recover his father’s throne.”

Roman finally turned to him, tortured gaze meeting his. “But grand adventure, an epic quest, a world in which I am a prince in more than name...all that is not preferable to--?”

“To just you?” Thomas asked with sudden understanding. He _recognized_ the almost hopeless look in Roman’s eyes and realized that some bit of himself he’d always thought must be Anxiety was _not_. The small, scared part of him that thought it had to perform, to be “on”, to put up a front and a show, keep up the cheerful mask of the always happy clown lest someone find out who he truly was, find out he wasn’t the light and easy soul they’d thought, that he wasn’t _good enough_...that was all reflected back to him, right now, in Roman’s eyes. 

Roman stiffened, his lips twisting into a grimacing mockery of his usual smile. “Of course not, Thomas,” he blustered, his voice cracking with forced nonchalance. “Time spent with me in any way is better than almost anything else. I simply thought a bit of fantasy would...”

“Roman,” Thomas cut him off, raising an eyebrow.

“I _did_ ,” Roman protested. “The others barely spent any time _wooing_ you, and you didn’t even leave the apartment. Here I can offer you anything, an entire universe at your fingertips. Anything you could possibly desire. Don’t you want to _explore_ all of that?”

“I’d love to,” Thomas assured him. “But Roman...you’re enough. Just you, on your own. I don’t need the rest of it. It’s fun, I enjoy it, and that seemed like an amazing quest you had planned, but...I don’t _need_ it to love you.”

Roman’s jaw clenched, muscles working under his skin as he swallowed. “Thomas, I…” He swallowed again, turning away. “This encounter is not going at all to plan.”

“That’s what we get for not letting Logan arrange it.” Thomas reached across the space between them, taking Roman’s hand in his. “Roman...I get it. I do. Probably better than anyone else. I don’t blame you for wanting to...to make everything so perfect, so bright and wonderful that it’s all anyone sees. But you are worth more than what you can _give_ me.”

“I am your creativity, Thomas,” Roman protested. “I _exist_ to give. Ideas, inspiration, to give you the fuel that makes you who you are and now is your career. Without that...what else is there?”

“There’s _you_ ,” Thomas told him firmly, knowing in a very real, concrete way, he was saying these words to himself. “The very fact that you _exist_ means you have worth, even if you never gave me another idea again.”

“Are you saying you’d be content to live like that?” Roman asked, looking down at their entwined hands.

“I’m saying I’d rather that than watch you do this to yourself,” Thomas said firmly, squeezing his fingers. “Roman...I’m not saying I don’t _appreciate_ what you do, that I’m unhappy with you. Just that...that I want you to do it because you _want_ to, not because you think it’s some currency you have to spend for affection.”

And even as he said the words, as he spoke things he had heard before, but never really internalized, Thomas could _feel_ them land. Feel himself begin to believe them. And as he did, as he felt the shift within himself, Roman relaxed in turn, his fingers closing tight over Thomas’s.

“Thomas...thank you,” he murmured. “I...thank you. Perhaps I shouldn’t need to hear that, but…”

“It’s okay,” Thomas said, a little shaken by the implications of what had apparently just happened. In helping Roman, he’d seemed to somehow start to heal himself, an old wound finally beginning to close.

But then hadn’t he been learning to love his Sides--and by extension himself--in a whole new way these last few weeks?

“It’s okay,” he said again, more firmly, knowing he was saying it to both of them. “Needing to hear what you mean to someone is...it’s normal. And I _do_ love you, Roman.”

Roman chuckled ruefully, but moved to set his feet on the floor and took Thomas’s hand in both his own. “Of course you do, how could you not?” he asked, but the pompous words no longer hid what was beneath them.

“I couldn’t,” Thomas agreed. He stood, crossing the distance to Roman’s chair, smiling when Roman’s head tipped back to look up at him, his long hair falling back from his face. Thomas leaned down, pressing his lips to Roman’s.

Logan’s first kiss had been cool, Patton’s playful. This...this was something else entirely.

At the first touch of their lips, Roman’s arms came around Thomas, pulling him close as he seemed to almost surge into the touch. His hands splayed across Thomas’s back, burning through the thin t-shirt he wore. But the fire of Roman’s hands was nothing to that of his _mouth_.

Thomas moaned, his lips parting in surprise as Roman moved against him. And Roman took the opening as swiftly as any swordsman, his tongue sliding through Thomas’s guard. Thomas opened to him, and they pressed together, Roman’s breath hot in his mouth, stealing his own. Their tongues moved against each other, pressing back and forth, a slick, sliding duel as they fought to move somehow closer together with every moment.

Only when they broke for air did Thomas realize he’d climbed into Roman’s lap, straddling him on the suddenly wider chair, his hips moving in small, needy thrusts as Roman’s hands slid down to rest just above them. “Oh...I…”

“Thomas,” Roman groaned, pressing up against him, an answering hardness grinding against Thomas’s own as he pressed open mouth kisses against Thomas’s neck. “By all that is holy, you feel _amazing_.”

Thomas wanted to answer in kind, to tell Roman his touch was like a burning brand, setting Thomas’s skin alight, waking an answering fire within him. He wanted to tell him he couldn’t remember having felt like this in ages, if in fact he ever had before. He wanted to tell him just how much he _wanted_ this, how incredible it was, how he suddenly understood the _emotions_ behind the language of romance novels, when he found himself awash in them now...but at that moment Roman’s mouth closed around his pulse point, his tongue pressing hard into Thomas’s skin, and his words were lost in a gasping cry.

How could have he have forgotten, in their talk of creativity and ideas, that Roman was also his _passion_?

An aspect Roman seemed more than willing to put into play, as he caused Thomas’s shirt to disappear with a thought, a stark reminder they were in the mindscape and the regular rules did not apply. Thomas groaned as Roman’s mouth slid down his chest, tongue lightly flicking against one nipple. “Thomas...Thomas, may I taste you?”

Thomas whimpered as he almost collapsed in need. “Oh God, Roman, _yes_ …”

Roman laughed, his hands sliding over Thomas’s thighs as his pants melted away, too. “I have been looking forward to this,” he said, almost absently as the velvet trimmed chair shifted, becoming a long, low couch. “But let’s make things a bit more comfortable.”

Thomas lay back, one foot dropping to the floor, the other settling on the couch with his knee hitched up, fighting a blush at the open, inviting nature of his own position. But Roman settled easily in the space between his legs, one hand sliding up his thigh to gently cup his balls, the other closing around the base of his cock.

“Please…” Thomas breathed, his head falling back as he barely kept his hips from pressing forward, forgetting his embarrassment. “Roman, _please_ …”

“Your wish is my command,” Roman replied, licking his lips.

And then. Oh, then. He opened his mouth and Thomas was engulfed in warm, wet heat.

He groaned, reaching down to tangle his fingers in Roman’s thick, sun-streaked hair. The prince’s mouth slid further and further along his length, then pulled back once more. He blew a soft stream of cool air against Thomas’s damp skin, making him twitch and shiver. “Mmm, you are _exquisite_ ,” Roman murmured, and then took Thomas in once again.

It all became something of a blur after that. Roman’s mouth moving on him, taking him in deeply, even as his hands still roamed over Thomas’s skin. Thomas found it hard to concentrate, hard to keep track, as Roman’s fingers did impossible, wonderful things, pressing for long moments into the skin behind his balls, then releasing him again to ripple his tongue along Thomas’s length.

And unlike his first time with Logan, Roman did not stop or hesitate as Thomas grew close, but redoubled his efforts, one hand stroking quickly over what little of Thomas’s length didn’t fit within his mouth, the other encouraging Thomas’s hips to thrust up, to let go. “Roman, I’m...going to...going to…”

And he did, the tension that’d built so quickly spilling over, over, and into Roman’s waiting mouth. The prince sucked and suckled him, holding him through his release, only pulling away when Thomas whimpered and pulled back, the sensation too much.

But gradually his panting breaths slowed, and Thomas came back to himself enough to reach for Roman, pulling him over him and kissing him deeply. He slid his hand down, down to wrap around Roman’s erection, obvious through his tight breeches. “Now,” Thomas murmured, grinning slowly, “what about you?”


	4. Anxiety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah. This is going to be more than the four chapters I'd figured, because otherwise the last chapter would enormous and take forever to get out to you. So here! Virgil's part will be more than one chapter!
> 
> As always, thanks to RandomSlasher for the beta, and Parsnipit for the cheerleading!

For several months, through the demise of Vine, the growing popularity of the Sides videos on Youtube, and the bustle of the holidays, that was how things stood. Thomas continued to have sex with Logan, Patton and Roman on a fairly regular basis, exploring their differences and coming to terms with some of his own issues at the same time.

But that left out Anxiety, and Thomas wasn’t sure what to do about that. Because, well. Sex with Logan was very clinical, very well researched, and occasionally a little kinky. Logan was fascinated by watching him react to different stimuli, and Thomas usually finished to Logan’s husky descriptions of the physical reactions he was experiencing. Sex with Patton continued to be silly and fun and full of puns and giggles and they sometimes forgot to finish what they were doing because they were laughing too hard. Sex with Roman had grown into full adventures, epic and romantic and passionate--and sometimes ridiculously athletic.

So what would it be like with Anxiety? Because, despite the growing comfort with his other sides, Thomas had always been anxious about sex. And he wasn’t the one who’d approached the others with the idea; they’d all come to him. He couldn’t even _imagine_ Anxiety approaching him, even if he _was_ interested. After all, Anxiety was the reason Thomas could never seem to ask anyone else out first anyway--why his general (and so far completely unsuccessful) method of letting someone know he liked them was to stare at them from across the room and will them to notice him.

Besides, sex with the others was all about what they represented. So how awkward and miserable would it be for Anxiety--and Thomas himself, he supposed--if it was the two of them fumbling together, both too worried about what they were doing, the impression they were making, to ever lose themselves in the moment? He didn’t want to hurt Anxiety, but he didn’t know how to make it good for him, or if he would even want it.

So he left things as they were, feeling guilty, but unsure of what else to do.

Until the day Anxiety disappeared, leaving Thomas--as Logan put it--a big bumbling couch potato man. The day they realized just how important Anxiety was. The day they went after him and convinced him to return.

The day Anxiety became Virgil.

* * *

It was so late it was early, but Thomas couldn’t sleep. Not after the visit to Anxiety’s-- _Virgil’s_ \--room and everything that’d happened within it. 

He couldn’t clearly remember the period when Anxiety had been missing. It felt strangely distant, like a dream or the aftermath of being drugged. He knew it’d been him, but the thought of acting as he had was now utterly foreign. He hadn’t been himself...and he hadn’t much liked the person he’d turned into.

All of which meant he owed Anx-- _Virgil_ more than he’d ever thought. And when Virgil had stood there, saying he’d always aimed to protect Thomas, above all else...Thomas’s heart had melted.

“So what am I supposed to do with that?” he asked the empty air of the living room.

“You could try talking to him.”

Thomas snorted, softly, pushing himself up from where he lay sprawled on the sofa. “Hi, Logan.”

“Hello,” Logan said, a spasm of annoyance going over his face, no doubt at the necessity of returning a greeting when he had a point to make. “I had thought the two of you would finally clear the air after the rest of us left. I don’t see why you’re hesitating now.”

“Complicated human emotions?” Thomas suggested. He dropped back down, resting his head on the sofa cushions, staring up at the ceiling. “I started to,” he admitted. “But...I don’t know. Something stopped me.”

“Hmm. It seems likely Virgil’s anxiety over what you might say may have increased your own.”

“Likely,” Thomas agreed. And that was the whole problem. How was he supposed to talk to Virgil when he was nervous about doing so?

“That _is_ a dilemma,” Logan said, sitting down at Thomas’s bare feet, wrapping his hand around one and massaging it absently. He’d told Thomas before that touching him that way helped him focus (though it often made it harder for Thomas to do the same). 

After a few quiet moments broken only by Thomas’s appreciative sighs as Logan squeezed and rubbed first one foot, then the other, Logan finally spoke again. “Prior to the events of today, I would have said any of the coping mechanisms you’ve learned were acting _against_ Virgil, and as such I have often been somewhat torn about their use. Now I think it likely they help him as much as you. I think you should employ them, and talk to him. Invite him to dinner, if you need an official excuse, but you’ve certainly spent one on one time with the rest of us often enough lately.”

Thomas blushed. “Yeah...yeah, I know I have. That’s part of it, too, though. What if...what if he says no?”

“Then you will know it’s not an acceptable solution, and can move on from there,” Logan said simply. “There will likely be some emotional fallout to deal with, of course, but you have a strong support system. But I seriously doubt he will, Thomas. He is...quite fond of you.”

Thomas blinked, glancing up at Logan’s face to see if he was joking. “He’s what?”

“I would not betray anything told to me in confidence,” Logan said, no sign of the sly smirk he wore when he indulged his rather dry sense of humor, “so I cannot give you specifics. But I can speak freely of my own _impressions_ , and I believe it’s safe to say Virgil holds you in the highest regard. All of us care for you, of course, as we are a part of you and our purpose is your health and happiness, but for him...I would venture to guess his position has very little to do with it. Invite him to dinner, Thomas. Cook that fish; it was very tasty.”

Thomas nodded absently, distracted by Logan’s words--and their implications. Virgil cared for him, was fond of him. Held him in the highest regard. From Logan, those were practically declarations of love. Something Thomas had expected and often received from Roman and Patton, but...Virgil? 

Was Logan right? He’d as good as said Virgil cared for Thomas even more than the other sides did...and Thomas knew first-hand just how much _they_ cared.

And if Logan _was_ right, how could Thomas _not_ talk to Virgil about it? How could he pretend he didn’t know, and possibly keep hurting Virgil in the process? If he’d caused pain out of ignorance, that was unfortunate, but probably forgivable. But now that he knew...no. He couldn’t hurt Virgil on purpose. He’d have to talk to him, in case Logan was even close to the mark.

“Okay. Yeah, okay, Logan,” he said, pushing himself up and brushing his hair out of his face. “I’ll...I’ll ask him to dinner. Um. Is he still awake?”

“You’re up worrying over something at four in the morning, and you want to know if your anxiety is still awake?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer, Thomas. Good night.”

Thomas laughed ruefully. So it had been a dumb question. At least he knew for sure now. “Good night, Logan.” He watched Logan sink out of view, before closing his eyes and reaching for Virgil’s presence inside him.

For a long time there was no real answer. Thomas could tell Virgil was there, but he was having trouble zeroing in on him, something that usually didn’t happen with the others. But then...Thomas went looking for them fairly often. He actually couldn’t remember the last time he’d sought Virgil out, especially since Virgil usually just appeared on his own. 

And lately...well, lately he’d been too busy with the others to really notice he hadn’t been getting any time at all alone with Virgil. Even when they’d all hung out as a group recently, Virgil had been quick to duck out.

No wonder he’d started to think he wasn’t needed. And because he was Anxiety, he’d already known he wasn’t _wanted_. Thomas had even said so himself, hadn’t he?

Thomas pushed the thought away, breathing slowly and consciously in, letting his diaphragm fall, his belly and chest expanding as he inhaled deeply through his nose. He held the breath for a long moment, released it through his mouth, then inhaled again. Gradually the pattern became nearly automatic, and the last of the tension he’d been feeling seeped out of him.

Only then, when his own nerves had calmed, was he able to get through.

He saw Virgil before he could tell where he was. His arms were wrapped around his knees, his hood up and heavy headphones over his ears. His eyes were closed, lashes disappearing against the dark shadow smeared beneath them. Thomas’s throat closed, and his fingers suddenly itched to brush Virgil’s purple-streaked bangs back from his forehead, to pull him close. To hold him. To _touch_ him. He looked so...so lost yet oddly beautiful, curled in around himself, like he was protecting something hidden in against his chest. 

Gradually the rest of the room formed around him. _His_ room, not one of the common areas of the mindscape. Thomas wondered suddenly how much, if any, of his time Virgil spent with the others. Was he always alone in his own room? And while he’d seemed immune to the growing panic the others had experienced, Thomas had to wonder if he really was. Or was he just used to it?

Either way, Thomas would have to make sure he got out more. Even if the room _was_ pretty sweet--the cobwebs and curtains had him wishing Halloween wasn’t months and months away--Virgil needed to get away from its influence. Or maybe Thomas just wanted to see more of him.

Virgil was curled up on the couch, a small ball in the central corner of the sectional. He barely took up the single cushion, and Thomas’s heart squeezed in his chest. Did Virgil ever get to just...sprawl out, relax, take up space and not...not worry? _Could_ he?

 _Virgil?_

Thomas tried to keep the call as soft, as non-threatening as possible, but Virgil still jumped, his eyes flying open. “Thomas? What’re you…?”

 _Sorry! Um. I just…_ Thomas trailed off, realizing he hadn’t actually thought this through. He didn’t have a plan for asking, or anything.

“Do you need something?” Virgil frowned, gradually uncoiling from his cramped position. “I can find Logan, if…”

 _No, no, I wanted to...to talk. To you_.

“You...do?” Virgil swallowed visibly, but squared his shoulders after a moment and nodded once. “Yeah...yeah, okay. I’ll be up in a second.”

Thomas pulled himself back to his own body, letting his breath out explosively. Okay. Okay, he had to figure out how he was going to handle this, before Virgil showed up and…

“Uh, hey.”

Thomas jumped as Virgil materialized in front of the couch. He managed--somehow--to keep himself from yelping, but it was close. “Couldn’t you play a warning musical cue or _something_?” he asked, raking his hand back through his hair, his heart pounding.

One side of Virgil’s mouth turned up in a smirk. “And miss watching all of you flail around in surprise? Not a chance. I’m trying to get Princey to jump in a full circle again sometime.”

Thomas giggled, reminded of one of Virgil’s more spectacular entrances, when Roman had indeed hopped around in a circle while waving his hands and shrieking. He’d forbidden them all from mentioning it again, which meant it was brought up pretty regularly. “Okay, fair enough,” he conceded. “That was pretty funny.”

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed. He wrapped one arm around his waist, chewing on the thumbnail of his other hand. “So, uh...I’m here?”

“Yeah,” Thomas said, his heart still beating too fast. It might’ve been leftover adrenaline...but he wasn’t sure. “You want a soda or something? Or, um...I think there’s some pizza that…”

“Thomas, if this is gonna be…” Virgil trailed off, then shook his head. “Look, can we just get to it? Anticipation is really _not_ my thing. Especially when someone says ‘we need to talk’.”

“Oh, man, sorry,” Thomas winced. He knew how much he dreaded those times when someone said they need to “talk later, but no hurry!” He’d spend the entire time until the talk happened fixating on all the horrible things it could be...and yeah. That was anxiety. It had to be worse for Virgil. “It’s nothing bad. I promise. I was just...just gonna ask you if you want to have dinner. Tomorrow. With...with me?”

Virgil blinked at him, apparently caught off guard. “You...you want to have dinner with me.”

“I’ll cook?” Thomas offered, hoping his accompanying smile was reassuring and attractive, and not a fixed rictus of embarrassed creepiness. 

Apparently it wasn’t--or if it was, Virgil still liked it, which was possible, considering his decorating choices--because he smiled back. A little hesitantly, yeah, but he did. “I...yeah. Okay. I mean, that’d be cool, if you want, I guess.”

Thomas’s grin softened, a wave of overwhelming fondness breaking over him as Virgil shifted his shoulders under his hoodie, ducking his head, obviously trying to hide his...yeah. His genuine pleasure at the offer. But his smile _had_ widened. “Okay. Any requests? I’ve got chicken in the freezer, or I could pick up some salmon, or…”

“It’s all...it all sounds good.” Virgil looked down at the floor, his arms once more wrapping around himself, hands cradling his elbows. “Logan...Logan said that fish thing was pretty good, so I guess if it’s not a lot of trouble...I mean. Don’t want you burning yourself or anything.”

God, Virgil really did spend all his time trying to protect him, didn’t he? A warm ache filled Thomas’s chest. “I’ll be careful, promise,” he assured him. “So, um...I think I’ll probably end up sleeping in tomorrow, so want to say about nine?”

“Yeah. Sounds good,” Virgil said. “You...you want me to leave, now, or…?”

“No!” Thomas interrupted, probably a bit too forcefully, judging by the way Virgil jumped. “I mean...no, no, only if you want to. We could...there’s that Ancient Aliens thing on Netflix. If you want?”

“That...that sounds cool.”

“Then grab a seat, I’ll get us something to drink.” Thomas jumped up, heading into the kitchen, trying not to think too hard about this. Okay, so he was spending time alone with Virgil. That didn’t necessarily have to mean anything...and he could do this. Even if little bubbles of fear/excitement were rising up in his stomach.

By the time he’d returned with two glasses of iced tea, Virgil had curled up in the corner of the couch closest to the stairs and pulled Netflix up on the TV. “You realize this thing thinks you have a kid?” he said, nodding at the screen, currently showing “Lazy Afternoon Movies for Kids” and “Family Watch Together Movies”.

“Nah, it thinks I am one,” Thomas said, holding a glass out to Virgil. Okay, so the lemon slice probably hadn’t been necessary, but he’d had the lemon, and it looked nice with the ice and the bendy straw. “Either that or Patton’s been using my log-in again.”

Virgil hesitated a moment before taking the glass, his thin fingers barely brushing against Thomas’s. “Thanks,” he said, quickly and quietly.

“You’re welcome,” Thomas replied, forcing himself to drop onto the couch, not just enfold Virgil in a tight hug and never let go. _Speaking of Patton_ … “So, um...alien conspiracies?”

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed, shaking himself and pointing the remote at the TV again. “Yeah, sounds good.”

* * *


	5. Virgil, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to RandomSlasher and Parsnipit, as always!
> 
> There's some strong language(both cursing and self-loathing) in this one, just fyi.

Thomas had expected to be a nervous wreck the next day. He'd expected to barely be able to function by the time he needed to start cooking, expected he'd be compiling worst case scenarios and maybe even be contemplating making a break for it--though how he was supposed to escape a part of his own personality, he really wasn't sure.

However, as soon as he'd woken--alone on the couch, a blanket over him, realizing he'd seen maybe ten minutes of the Alien show before he'd actually managed to fall asleep--he'd been confronted by Logan, Patton, Roman, and Logan's Plan™.

Logan's Plan™--which Patton assured him needed the implied capital letters and trademark, even when speaking of it--was threefold. (Actually, it was also diagrammed and included a comprehensive flowchart, lovingly decorated with flower petals around each box. Unsurprisingly, that was Patton's doing. Thomas had rarely seen Logan as completely done as he had been while presenting it.)

The threefold plan was simple. Thomas would first shop, then clean the apartment--with special care needing to be taken to vacuum up all the granola scattered across the carpet--then clean himself, then cook. Logan, Patton, and Roman would take it in turns to distract Virgil, at least enough to keep either Thomas or Virgil himself from succumbing to nerves and missing out on the meal they both wanted to share.

The third part of the plan was having a lovely evening and Logan apparently seemed to think that would take care of itself. Thomas wasn't so sure, but he wasn't about to argue with Logan when he was both that organized and holding a pointer.

So he gave in, a little relieved that the others were going to keep Virgil busy, and a little concerned at how cheerfully they were all pitching in to do so. Granted, Roman had seemed a little jealous of Thomas's, ah, activities with Logan and Patton, and Patton had asked Thomas if he was having fun, but none of them had expressed any other interest in his physical relationship with the other two. They certainly hadn't helped him _start_ something with one of them, much less ganged up to do so.

So why now?

Thankfully, whatever they were doing to distract Virgil was successful enough that Thomas found himself not really worrying about it too much. Instead he worked his way through each step of Logan's Plan™ with no more than his usual level of nervousness--and a healthy dose of buzzing anticipation.

But it wasn't until he was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, still wet from the shower, frowning at his damp hair, that he realized exactly what that anticipation was. That he'd felt it before. That he knew what it meant. He was getting ready for a date.

This was a date.

This was not just dinner, this was a _date_.

 _Oh God_.

Adrenaline flooded his system and Thomas's heart started pounding in his chest, his breath catching in his throat as his face felt suddenly cold. Some distant part of him realized the distractions had probably all just failed, less than half an hour away from go time, but most of him was stuck staring at himself in the mirror as his pupils dilated and his stomach clenched.

"Uh, Thomas? Thomas, teensy little problem, we wanted to tell you, Virgil's...ah." Patton's voice trailed off, as Thomas turned to see him standing in the doorway, smiling ruefully. "I see you noticed. Sorry, kiddo, we kept him calm as long as we could. Take a deep breath or two, and we'll make sure he's ready on time!"

Thomas shook his head, forcing himself to do as Patton said as he sank out again. Just breathe. Okay. So...so this was a date. And obviously Virgil thought so, too...and so did the rest of them. Why else would they have all been basically playing matchmaker?

So, all right. He was apparently about to date himself. Well, why not? It made as much sense as anything that'd happened to him recently, and...and it was _Virgil_.

If Virgil could be brave enough to face everything he did every day and still let Thomas live his life--even when that life involved asking Joan to hit him with their car--then Thomas could handle a date.

He met his own eyes in the mirror again. "Don't screw this up, okay? Don't hurt him."

Ignoring the irony of having to warn himself to treat himself right, Thomas left the bathroom to go get dressed.

For his date.

* * *

Thomas had just pulled the asparagus out of the oven when the opening chords of "Na Na Na" by My Chemical Romance suddenly filled the apartment, the song starting softly but crescendoing up through the first few bars. He whirled, just as the music cut off, to find Virgil standing in the living room. "Better?"

"Much," Thomas said, grinning slowly. Virgil was wearing black skinny jeans and his usual hoodie, but had a black button down on beneath it, the first couple buttons undone. His hair was the kind of messy-on-purpose spikiness Thomas knew from experience took a lot of time and effort to achieve and his eyes were actually carefully lined in black, the shadow below both more lightly and precisely applied than Thomas thought he'd ever seen it. He remembered Patton assuring him they'd get Virgil ready and had a sudden mental image of Roman standing behind him wielding hair gel while Logan did his make-up.

In short, he looked amazing, and Thomas felt himself blushing. He'd spent _way_ too long trying to decide what to wear himself. Picking jeans had been easy--he had a dark blue pair that made his ass look awesome--but he'd discarded shirt after shirt. A t-shirt felt too casual, a dress shirt and vest too formal. He'd grabbed his white shirt with the navy blue sleeves, then remembered he'd worn it in the first video Virgil'd been in, when he'd still been portrayed as an antagonist. Bad idea to go with that. 

Eventually, after realizing he wasn't going to have time to get started cooking if he didn't get dressed _right then_ , he'd settled on a heathered gray t-shirt with a lightweight chambray shirt over it, the top four buttons open and the sleeves folded up to his elbows to keep them out of the way while he cooked.

Judging from the look Virgil was giving him, it'd been a good choice. He was actually blushing. "You look really good," Thomas offered, finally remembering to put the baking tray of asparagus down on the counter.

Virgil shrugged, pulling his hoodie a little more firmly around himself. "Uh...thanks. You, too."

Thomas's blush deepened. "Thanks," he echoed, trying to collect himself. Okay, deep breaths, he could do this. "So...come in, sit down, stay awhile. Do you want some wine?"

"God, yes," Virgil agreed, crossing over to breakfast bar. "This has been the _weirdest_ day."

"Oh yeah?" Thomas asked, a little relieved Virgil's vehement acceptance apparently wasn't all to do with him. He poured two glasses and handed one over.

"Yeah." Virgil took the glass, taking a small sip. "S'good, thanks." He leaned against the counter, looking over to watch as Thomas drizzled olive oil over the salmon sizzling on the stove. "I appreciate that everyone seems to want to include me more, but I'm kinda used to hanging out on my own. All three of them all day was...it was a little much."

"I can see that," Thomas said, hoping this, too, wasn't too much. He didn't want Virgil to regret spending time with him. "I think they're just eager to start to make things up to you. But if you need some space…"

"You're not...I mean...this is good," Virgil interrupted, easing Thomas's worry.

"Well...good," Thomas replied, flushing and busying himself with turning over the salmon in the skillet. Almost done. "I think they'll calm down, but I can talk to them if they don't. If you want me to."

"Not...not yet," Virgil said, taking another drink from his glass, looking down into it. ‘It's...kinda nice. Exhausting, but...nice."

"Okay." Thomas felt that same aching warmth in his chest as he had the night before, and had to again stop himself from just reaching out to hug Virgil close. The sound of his voice, going soft and high, admitting he'd like the attention of the others...God. It _did_ things to Thomas. "I promise I didn't have anything too energetic planned. Just dinner, and then maybe a movie or just...talking, if you want."

"I think I can handle that," Virgil agreed with a slight smile.

"Cool." Thomas turned back to the fish, fairly certain he had an incredibly dopey grin on his face, and also absolutely certain that he didn't care. He wasn't sure when his entire goal for the evening had turned into making Virgil smile as often as he could, but apparently it had and he was going to do his best.

He was relatively successful, as he finished cooking and prepped their plates. He kept the conversation light, avoiding the entire drama of the day before, asking what kinds of things the others had been up to all day, drawing Virgil out a bit as he did.

That got them through setting the table and most of dinner. The topic gradually changed to Disney, and Thomas let Virgil take over most of the conversation, more than a little delighted to see him lighting up as he expounded further on some of their mixed messages and how some even had positive ones hidden in parts they hadn't meant to be.

That carried them right through the end of dinner, and to the living room after. Thomas found himself leaning toward Virgil, as they both sat sideways on the couch, Virgil with his shoes kicked off, legs crossed in front of him, talking animatedly. "See, no way they meant it like this, but the way The Little Mermaid ends is actually pretty cool. ‘Cause Hans Christian Anderson was queer, right? And he _was_ The Little Mermaid, when he wrote it, and the guy he loved was the prince. But the guy was straight and married some chick, and left him on his own, because life sucked back then. But now...things are changing and shit. So she ends up with Eric, and sure Disney did it to get a happy ending, but once you know the history, it makes it kinda...hopeful, right? Like maybe now the impossible thing can actually happen."

"Yeah, maybe it can," Thomas breathed, just stopping himself from leaning in and doing something stupid, like kissing Virgil without asking. _You can't just touch people_. He swallowed, forcing himself to stop just staring at Virgil like a puppy. "Still could be gayer, though."

Virgil snorted. "Couldn't everything?"

"Yeah, probably," Thomas agreed, reaching his foot out to nudge Virigl's gently.

Virgil nudged back, his bare foot warm against Thomas's. "Hey...um...dinner was really good, thanks. I didn't believe Logan when he said you'd finally figured out how to cook, but...guess I was wrong. Again." He inclined his head, a small smile hovering around his lips. "I'm kinda getting used to that. Not gonna lie, it's...nice."

"It's nice being wrong?" Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow.

Virgil actually _laughed_. "Hey, I'm not Logan, I can take it. Sure, I know I'm pretty much a pessimist, but I don't _mind_ when things turn out okay. Kinda wish they always would. I just figure one of us should be prepared when they don't."

"I'm glad you are," Thomas said gently. "Virgil...it means a lot. Knowing you're looking out for me."

Virgil ducked his head, wrapping his arms around his middle. "It's my job, right? No big deal…"

"Yeah, it is," Thomas countered, knowing he was embarrassing Virgil. But this was important, and he deserved to hear it, even if it made him uncomfortable. "You've always been trying to protect me, keep me safe, no matter what it took. You let everyone either discount you or cast you as the villain, just so you could keep doing it. You've put up with so much, for me, and I just...I can't tell you how much that means to me. And I'm sorry, that I've hurt you and made it harder."

"Whatever," Virgil mumbled, hiding even further back in his hoodie. "It's not...it's no big deal, okay?"

"It is to me," Thomas countered, deciding he'd have to keep telling Virgil until he believed him. But not when he was already clearly uncomfortable. "But I'll drop it. I don't want to push or anything. You hadn't been around a lot in the last few months, even before...."

"Yeah, well, you've been getting laid a lot recently," Virgil pointed out, his voice bitter as he played with the strings of his hoodie, avoiding Thomas's eyes. "Not a lot of room for anxiety when you're all post-coital, is there?"

Thomas flushed. He hadn't been sure his time with the other sides was going to come up, but...looked like it was. "I would've expected some during," he offered slowly. 

"I didn't want to interrupt," Virgil said, shrugging again, still looking down at his lap. "Or eavesdrop. I mean, come on. I'm the last thing you'd ever want to think of in that situation, right?"

Thomas felt his heart crack at the self-loathing in Virgil's voice. Man, he'd messed up. He should've found a way to work them both past the fear and hesitation that'd kept him from approaching Virgil. He should've figured out some way to keep from hurting him, to keep from letting him think that Thomas wouldn't...wouldn't want him.

Well. Only way to fix it now was by being honest and putting himself out there, no matter how much it scared him.

"Not...not necessarily," Thomas said softly, reaching out to gently wrap his hand around Virgil's ankle, squeezing softly. "I mean...I wouldn't want to be too anxious, no. But I wouldn't mind thinking of you." He took a deep breath as Virgil's head snapped up, his dark eyes catching Thomas's. "In fact, I'd...I'd like a lot more than that, but I didn't...I didn't know how to ask for it. Or if it would've been welcomed. I still don't, but...but I don't want you to think I don't want you around."

"But...the others…"

"All came to me," Thomas said, shrugging slightly, trying to at least act calm, to keep himself from totally losing it. Which wasn't made any easier by the fact that Virgil looked just freaked as he did. "It wouldn't have occurred to me that it'd be okay. And c'mon...you know better than anyone else how useless I am at talking to cute boys."

"Are you...you _are_. You're are saying...oh _fuck_." Virgil brought his knees up, rested his elbows on them and buried his face in his arms. Thomas could feel him shaking, slightly, as Virgil took a deep breath of his own, held it for a bit, then let it out again slowly. He did it again, and Thomas counted off the four, seven, eight rhythm in his head.

But it didn't seem to help much and when Virgil lifted his head after a few moments tears were running down his cheeks, his eyeshadow and liner were smeared, and his face was set. "So...what? You're offering some kind of _pity_ fuck?"

" _No_ , Virgil, I--"

But Virgil didn't let him finish. "You're playing ‘collect all four'? This is your way of completing the _set_? You don't have to fucking pretend to want me just for the sake of symmetry." 

"I'm...I'm not," Thomas managed, reeling. God, that Virgil thought he would do that...it hurt, hurt deeply, but he pushed the pain away. It was nothing compared to what Virgil was obviously feeling. "I swear, Virgil, it's not... _no_. It's not that. I…" He bit his lip, ducking his own head. "I _like_ you."

"No, you don't," Virgil rasped, pushing himself up off the couch, away from Thomas. "You don't even _know_ me, not really. Up until now I've been...been the necessary evil, the bad guy, the conflict in your story. That was my _job_. And it was _all_ I was to you. And it didn't...it didn't matter, if everyone hated me, if _you_ hated me. Not if it kept you safe. Maybe it was _better_ , even, it gave you someone to blame, and I can take that, I can, and it means the others don't get hit with it, either. It means all of you are...are okay."

"I'm...I'm not okay doing that to you," Thomas managed, his throat closing, fear and shame fighting within him with each word Virgil spit out, each spiky ball of pain he'd swallowed down and hid from Thomas. From all of them. "I'm not okay with hurting you like this."

"Oh, I know you're not _trying_ to hurt me," Virgil said, scrubbing at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. "But I don't know any reason other than pity for why you'd suddenly offer to fuck me, when you've never shown any interest in wanting to before. I don't know why you think all this--the food, dressing up, getting the others to help you out, make believing this is a god damn _date_ \--is going to change that." He swallowed hard, his jaw clenching, bitter self-loathing again filling his voice."I...shit. I am such a piece of _shit_. I shouldn't have said yes, shouldn't have thought..."

"Thought what?" Thomas asked numbly, feeling frozen in place, his whole body flashing hot and cold. He'd known he'd messed up, that he'd hurt Virgil, but _God_ …

"Thought that a pity fuck was better than nothing at all," Virgil finished dully. "Look...I'm sorry. I'm sorry I threw a stupid little hissy fit and made you all come look for me, I'm sorry I can't just...just get out of your life, that you need me to stick around. I'm sorry you're _stuck_ with me. But I can't...I can't do this. I know you feel guilty about being with everyone else and not me, I know it'd make things easier if I just shut up and let it happen, but...I can't do this."

And with that he sank out, leaving Thomas alone.

* * *


	6. Virgil, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to RandomSlasher and Parsnipit!

"Are you ready, Thomas?"

"Yeah, yeah. Let's do this." 

Thomas was more than ready. The week since Virgil had sunk out of his living room had been utterly miserable. As soon as Virgil had disappeared, Thomas had immediately summoned the other sides to help him figure out what to do, but had reluctantly agreed with Logan that giving Virgil some time (and giving the others a chance to talk him down) was probably a good idea. He hadn't liked it, but he'd agreed to give them a day before he tried to contact Virgil on his own.

But when he had, the following evening, there'd been no reply. Virgil was obviously still _with_ him, he hadn't reverted to the careless moron he'd been without him. But he wouldn't respond to Thomas, and Logan had admitted he wasn't talking much to the others, either. 

"He's locked himself in his room and says he will do his job, but otherwise he wants to be left alone," Logan reported, a few days after Thomas's initial attempt had failed. "We'll keep trying to get through to him, though."

Thomas had thanked Logan, and kept trying, himself. He'd fallen asleep on the couch more than once, exhausted from reaching out to Virgil and being continuously ignored.

And over the course of the week, everything Virgil had said replayed itself in his head, the barbs he'd thrown sticking and digging deeply. Some of them Thomas could dismiss outright, but others lingered. He _had_ let Virgil act as the bad guy, and so too had he avoided reaching out to him. He'd let himself fall into the trap of thinking anxiety was a negative thing, and therefore so, too, must be its avatar.

But Virgil was and always had been _more_ than just his anxiety, just as the others were all more than one single trait. And as Thomas spent every evening that week curled up on his couch, refusing to have his friends over or go to their houses, he'd started to realize just how much more Virgil had become to him--and how much he'd missed him. Not just in the last few days, but in the weeks prior as well, when he'd been admittedly neglecting him in favor of spending time with the others.

He remembered all the time he'd spent with Virgil, both alone and with the others. Before Logan had first suggested sex, several months ago, Virgil had often hung out in his living room, just listening to music or playing on his phone while Thomas worked. And he'd been there for brainstorming sessions for videos, helped Thomas play him, even offering suggestions and coaching him when he'd been playing Anxiety as the antagonist.

Which--the more Thomas looked back on things--Virgil never _really_ had been. Sure, there'd been times he'd been negative; times that his worry and his desire to keep Thomas safe had made things harder than they might've been. But no more than Roman's reckless enthusiasm, or Patton's tendency to keep him up late watching Netflix, or Logan's tendency to overanalyze and overthink.

And he'd always been ready with a snarky aside or sarcastic comment; had always gone along with whatever insane or ridiculous thing the others had come up with. He'd just tried to keep them all safe at the same time.

Thomas couldn't fault him for that. And he did miss those snarky asides, now; missed Virgil's lopsided, wry smile, missed the delight he took in debating Disney with Roman, or scoring a good point with Logan, or just...just being there with them.

It was affecting the others, too, Thomas knew. He'd spent time with each of them, between everyone's attempts to get Virgil out of his room, and no one was quite themselves. Logan was distracted and more easily frustrated with Roman, who was waspish and snappy in turn. Patton was taking it hardest of all, his normally cheerful demeanor sunk into resigned sadness. And even that wasn't breaking through Virgil's self-imposed exile.

The ache of his absence had only grown deeper with every moment Virgil refused to break it. Until, at last, Thomas had called the others again. 

"If he won't come here, I'm going in after him," he'd said firmly, overriding Logan's objections. (Roman had been all for it, calling the whole situation an epic, tragic love story that had to be resolved. And Patton was willing to try anything if it would fix things between them.) "I did better in his room than the rest of you, last time...if you can just help me get there, you can leave and I'll…"

"And you'll what?" Logan had asked, frowning. "If he refuses to speak to you and we've left, how will you get _out_? And what good will that do all of us, if you are stuck in Virgil's room for good?"

Thomas had shaken his head. "He won't let that happen. If I can trust anything, it's that Virgil will always protect me. But I can't get to his room on my own. Not when he's trying to keep me out, anyway."

"All right," Logan had at last conceded. "I don't like it, but all right. We'll help you."

And so the four of them were now preparing to once again break into Virgil's room. Thomas couldn't quite believe how casually he'd let it happen, last time. He'd been to the mindscape before, of course, helped to fully immerse himself by one of the sides each time. But to go into one of their rooms, especially uninvited, was something else. He knew the other sides couldn't get past Virgil's locked door without his help, but neither would he have been able to do it without them.

He just had to hope Virgil would forgive this second intrusion in as many weeks. Because things had to change; he couldn't live like this.

Once again, he sank down through the floor of his apartment and into his own mind. It felt like he was standing completely still as the floor dropped down, the walls moving up and up around him, like the beginning of the Haunted Mansion ride at Disneyland. And once again, when it stopped, he found himself in Virgil's room.

Thomas stumbled, still not used to the abrupt change as the floor steadied beneath him. He glanced over at the others and gave them a thumbs up and a quick jerk of the head, mouthing "Go" at them. Roman hesitated, but Logan and Patton grabbed his arms and the three of them sank out together, hopefully before they were unduly influenced.

And that left Thomas alone to find Virgil and try to convince him to talk.

Thomas took a deep breath, looking around the room. It was darker than he'd remembered, but otherwise the same. Still a copy of his living room, still covered in cobwebs and lit by candles, though fewer than before.

And this time Virgil was curled up on the couch, asleep, wrapped tightly in the black and grey plaid blanket Thomas had last seen thrown over the back of the sofa, a pillow clutched to his chest. His fine, soft hair fell over his tear-stained face and, for the first time Thomas could remember, he wore no makeup.

Without the heavy eyeshadow or smudged liner, it was all too easy to see the dark, bruised skin beneath his eyes, evidence of too many late nights and too much worry. Thomas swallowed, wanting to somehow reach out and smooth away the evidence of so much misery and exhaustion--to leave Virgil's thin, almost sharp face relaxed and smiling and _well_ , not bruised and drawn and tear streaked.

Instead, he cleared his throat. "Virgil?"

Virgil stirred, his face tightening in apparent pain before he hid it in the pillow, turning away. "I told you, go away," he mumbled, his shoulders hunching in.

"I'm sorry," Thomas said, heart in his throat as he watched Virgil, watched what he'd done to him. Could he possibly fix this? "I will, but not yet. I'm not leaving without talking to you."

Virgil stiffened, raising his head and looking up. "Th-Thomas? How'd you...what are you _doing_ here?"

"You wouldn't come out and talk to me, so…" Thomas shrugged. "Here I am."

Virgil frowned, staring at him like he wasn't quite sure Thomas was real. "You shouldn't...it's not a good idea for you to be in here too long."

"You've been in here for a week," Thomas pointed out.

"That's different," Virgil said, struggling free of his blanket, a black stuffed cat falling to the floor as he sat up. "This is where I belong, but it'll mess with you."

"Then you're gonna have to talk to me," Thomas said, keeping his voice as even as he could, grateful he had enough acting training and experience to pull it off, even when he felt like a nervous wreck. "I'm not leaving until you do."

"No. We have to get you out of here. _Now_ ," Virgil countered, pushing himself up. "You were lucky, last time. I'm not going to risk...we're leaving." He reached over, gripping Thomas's arm, and the room tilted in a dizzying rush as Thomas felt them rocketing out of the mindscape and back into his living room.

Thomas stumbled a little again on landing, but didn't give himself long to gain his footing. Instead, he spun and grabbed Virgil's thin wrist, clinging tightly to him before Virgil could begin to sink back out. "Fine, then we'll talk here. But if you go back I'm going with you."

"Dammit, Thomas…" Virgil wriggled, tugging his arm and trying to break Thomas's hold. "Just...leave me alone."

"No," Thomas said firmly, squashing the fear and rising panic filling him. It was Virgil's as much as his own, and he wouldn't let it stop them. "I'm not doing this to hurt you, Virgil, but we're _going_ to talk this out. We _have_ to. For everyone's sake."

Virgil cursed under his breath, but stopped trying to pull away. "This is fucking stupid."

"We're still doing it," Thomas told him. "Promise you won't run off again? Because I will follow you."

" _Fine_ ," Virgil sighed, dropping onto the couch. "I promise."

Thomas released him, grateful to have at least gotten that much from him. "All right," he said, sitting on the edge of the couch. "What are we going to do about this?"

"About what?"

Thomas snorted softly. "The fact that we're both miserable? That you're avoiding everyone? That Patton's a mess because of it?"

"That's not fucking fair," Virgil groaned, scrubbing his hands through his hair, leaving it still hiding his face, but sticking up in a dozen different directions. It would've been cute, if Thomas had been less on edge and Virgil less tense. "You can't bring Patton into this."

"Virgil, _I_ can't leave him out of it," Thomas pointed out. "And we're hurting him right now. Even if you...even if you don't ever believe me, if you don't want to be with me--which is fine, that's your decision--we have to be able to be in the same room, to...still get along. For his sake."

"Dammit." Virgil sighed again, wrapping his hoodie firmly around himself, hands hiding in the too-long sleeves. "Fine. Okay. I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"You don't have to be," Thomas said softly, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. "A lot of what you said was true."

"And that doesn't make hitting you with it _worse_?" Virgil asked, lips twisting into something that really couldn't be called a smile. "I'm good at hurting you, Thomas, I know all the sore spots. Doesn't mean I'm supposed to punch them."

Thomas let out a soft huff of breath. "Maybe not. But I get where you were coming from. And a lot of what you said was _wrong_ , too. But I still needed to hear it. Needed to know what you were feeling, what you were thinking, not just...just try to push through with something that wasn't really about you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Thomas raked a hand back through his hair. "Look...you were right, I _don't_ know you as well as I want to. And I _did_ let you get lost in your job a lot. But...I see _you_ now. And everything I know about you, I like a hell of a lot. I want to know more. And I can't find it out if you're hiding in your room refusing to speak to me."

Virgil frowned. "But…"

"No, let me finish." Thomas tried to get his thoughts in order, to explain himself. He had to get this _right_. Virgil deserved that. "Virgil...I've had a lot of time to think this through, this week. And...I really could've handled things better. I could've figured out where I was coming from before just...rushing in with a stupid romantic gesture. I could've checked in with _you_ , found out where you were, what you wanted, instead of planning and springing something on you without your input. Without any caution, or care."

Virgil snorted, his lips twitching upward, making Thomas's heart leap. Maybe he _could_ do this. "Yeah...you do screw up pretty good without me."

"Yeah, I do," Thomas answered, smiling shyly at him. "So yeah, I might not have had a clear answer for you then of why I was offering. But it was _never_ about guilt, or pitying you." He met Virgil's eyes squarely. "I _swear_. I may screw some stuff up, but I wouldn't do that. You think Patton would let me?"

Virgil blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "No. No, you're right. He'd get all...disappointed at you if you tried."

"Exactly." Thomas nodded, shivering slightly at the thought of Patton's reaction if he _had_ tried to pull something that dumb. "And Verge...I _don't_ pity you. God, it's the opposite. I think you're pretty amazing. You're so strong, putting up with all of us treating you like shit and still doing your best for me; being willing to take all that on, when you were just doing what you had to do...That's damn impressive, man."

"It must be, you're actually cursing." Virgil's slight lip twitch had grown to an actual smile, now. Small, but there.

Thomas blushed. "Shut up."

"Okay." Virgil sat up a bit more, pushing his sleeves back from his hands and brushing his hair away from his face. "Um. I don't know if I agree with you, on all that, but...okay. But if it's not...not pity, or guilt, or...or any of that, then why would you…?"

"So many reasons." Thomas's cheeks flushed hot, but he forced himself to again meet Virgil's eyes. This was it. This was his chance, he _had_ to do this right. "Because you played My Chemical Romance when you came into the room, just to finish a joke from the day before. Because you wear heavy eyeshadow to hide the circles under your eyes so the others won't worry about you." Virgil flushed, ducking his head and letting his hair cover his face. But Thomas didn't let that stop him. He wasn't going to stop until he'd said his piece, until he could tell Virgil everything he wanted to. "Because you snark back at Logan to keep him from accidentally hurting Patton by getting too personal. Because you push Roman to be his best by needling him in exactly the right way to make him prove you wrong out of spite. Because you hum along with whatever you're listening to, just loud enough that I can hear it." 

Virgil was staring at him, now, shaking his head, his eyes bright as Thomas kept talking. Thomas reached over, taking one of his thin, cold hands in his own, squeezing it gently. 

He swallowed, hard, his voice growing thick as his vision blurred. "Because...without you I wouldn't be who I am. If I didn't...didn't care about hurting anyone else, wasn't anxious about their reactions...I wouldn't be someone I'd respect, someone I'd want to be. Virgil...I love you because of who _you_ are, and who _I_ am because of you."

"You...you _love_ me?" Virgil's voice broke on the word, his own eyes full of tears.

Thomas's spilled over, sliding down his cheeks as he nodded, hard, trying to project it, somehow, to let Virgil sense just what was in his heart. Logan had said they could, a bit, Patton had known...surely Virgil could, too? "God, _yes_ , Virgil. So much."

Virgil didn't answer in words. Instead, he pushed himself up and all but launched himself into Thomas's arms, toppling him to his back onto the couch. Virgil burrowed in against him, his breath hitching, and hid his face in Thomas's shoulder.

Thomas wrapped his arms around him, pulling Virgil in even closer, his own tears dripping steadily down his cheeks as Virgil sobbed in his arms. "I've got you," he murmured. He slid his hand up Virgil's back, cupping the nape of his neck and gently rubbing the tight muscles there. He held Virgil tight against him as they both lay full length on the sofa, Virgil's slight weight pressing down against him. "I've got you, sweetheart."

And gradually, the storm of tears passed, and Virgil's hitching sobs ended. Thomas felt him begin to relax, slowly. But he didn't move, face still hidden against Thomas, body pressed in close.

And then Thomas heard him draw a shaking breath, and spoke to cut him off: "Virgil, if you're going to say you're sorry again, you don't need to."

Virgil sniffled, then released the breath in a rush. "Fine," he grumbled shakily. "But...yeah. Still am."

"Well...so am I," Thomas said, giving Virgil an extra little squeeze. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

A slight shudder went through Virgil's thin frame, and he pulled back. But he didn't go far, just shifted to the side to take some of his weight off Thomas, resting his head on Thomas's shoulder and bringing one hand up to play with the sequins of his skull shirt. "I...um. Well...you did, but I could've...I could've made things easier. For both of us. Call it even?"

"Sounds good to me," Thomas agreed, relieved. He'd been so afraid he would mess this up, too; that he wouldn't be eloquent enough, or that Virgil wouldn't believe him, and then he'd really lose him completely. The thought made him shiver, and he pressed a quick kiss against Virgil's hair. He felt Virgil stiffen slightly, then sigh and relax again, snuggling closer. He smiled. "I'd rather do this, anyway," he murmured.

"Me...me, too," Virgil admitted, sighing softly. "Thomas...I...um. I kind of...I mean, I hope you know…I mean that I...Oh fuck it." He snorted, shaking his head. "I love you, too."

"Yeah?" Thomas asked, his voice high and soft with wonder.

"Yeah," Virgil replied, still dragging his fingers lightly up and down Thomas's chest, flipping the sequins from white to colored and back. The gentle, almost tickling touch caused fizzing rushes of joy to flood through him. "Yeah. Um. For awhile. I guess...Logan didn't tell you?"

"No," Thomas replied, sliding one hand over Virgil's arm, feeling his sleeve ruffle back and forth beneath the touch. So Logan _had_ known...Virgil must've told him. And not just in the roundabout way Logan had implied it, either. "No, he didn't. He said you were ‘fond' of me, but…"

"‘Fond'?" Virgil repeated, rolling his eyes. "God, he's such a geek. Yeah, fond is one way to put it, I guess. Totally batshit crazy about you is closer."

Thomas grinned, hiding his face against Virgil's hair, knowing he was bright red. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Virgil sounded embarrassed, but he'd still said it. Thomas couldn't believe how brave he was. "You're...you're pretty awesome. When you're not being an idiot."

Thomas chuckled softly. "So once in awhile, I guess. I'll take it." He pushed himself up on one elbow, rolling them both to brace himself over Virgil, thinking wistfully of the mindscape and its accommodating, expanding furniture. But here in the real world, he just had to smush them close together to down look into Virgil's face. The dark circles were still there, his cheeks were still tear stained, but he was smiling. And he was _beautiful_.

Thomas cupped his cheek, gently running his thumb over Virgil's cheekbone. He felt lightheaded as he looked at him, drinking in every detail after the horrible week apart. After a few moments, his gaze slid down to Virgil's lips. They looked so _soft_... "I...I _really_ want to kiss you right now."

Virgil licked his lips and Thomas bit back a groan, warm arousal rising in him. "I'm not...not saying no," Virgil whispered, voice breaking.

"Oh thank God," Thomas breathed, leaning in to press their lips together.

Virgil's lips _were_ as soft as they looked and he practically _melted_ into Thomas, his body pressing in close, his arms winding around Thomas's neck. Thomas found himself gently nipping Virgil's bottom lip, teasing his lips with his tongue.

Virgil moaned, his lips parting as his body undulated, shifting constantly, moving with restless energy. Thomas pressed in, gently touching Virgil's tongue with his own, before pulling back. "Okay?" he managed, voice gone hoarse and breathless.

In answer, Virgil surged up to kiss him again, pulling Thomas down, still slowly squirming beneath him, trying to get closer. Thomas's groan was lost in Virgil's mouth as Virgil opened to him, lithe and responsive in his arms.

Thomas finally broke the kiss when he ran out of air, panting as he pulled himself up again. Virgil blinked up at him, his eyebrows furrowing. "Did I do something wrong?"

Thomas shook his head. "No, no...just... _I've_ got to breathe occasionally," he explained, lightly brushing Virgil's hair back from his face, the fine strands of black and purple soft against his fingers. "Verge...what do you want, right now?"

Virgil flushed, turning his face to press against Thomas's palm. "I...um. I'm not sure?"

Thomas nodded. "Yeah, okay. It's...it's been a long week, for both of us. Do you...do you want to go upstairs to bed? Just to sleep!" he clarified quickly, when Virgil's eyes widened. "I just...I thought you might want to...to stay? Tonight?"

"You...you want to sleep with me? Just sleep?" Virgil asked, his cheek warming against Thomas's palm. 

"Only if you want to, too," Thomas assured him. "But...I'm exhausted, and I don't...I don't want to rush anything, here, but I don't want you to go, yet, either." He really didn't want to wake up in the middle of the night and find out all this had just been a dream, and Virgil was still avoiding him.

"I don't wanna go, either," Virgil admitted, biting his bottom lip. He let out a slow breath, then nodded. "Okay. Um. I'd like that. Sleeping with you, I mean. It sounds nice."

"Guess that means we have to get up, huh?" Thomas said, leaning down to gently kiss Virgil again, teasing his bottom lip free of his own teeth.

Virgil snorted softly when Thomas pulled away. "This is why falling asleep on the couch every night is easier," he said, but didn't resist when Thomas stood and pulled him up after him. 

"Not as comfortable, though," Thomas pointed out, keeping hold of Virgil's hand, even after he was standing.

"Maybe not," Virgil admitted, fingers tightening on Thomas's. "You're...you're really sure about this? About...about me?"

Thomas nodded, squeezing his hand. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. C'mon, let's go to bed."

It took only a few moments to shut off the lights and head upstairs. Thomas left Virgil in his room to change as he used the bathroom. When he returned, Virgil was sitting on the edge of the bed, still wearing his hoodie, now zipped, and black boxer briefs--but nothing else. His legs were even paler than his face, just as thin and wiry as the rest of him.

He glanced up at Thomas, a flush rising up from his chest to take over his face. "Uh. Hey. Is this...okay?"

"It's fine," Thomas assured him. "So long as you won't get overheated...the air conditioning can only do so much."

"I'll be fine," Virgil shrugged. "I'm always cold, anyway."

Thomas frowned to himself as he pulled his own shirt off. He'd have to see if he couldn't keep Virgil warmer...if that was even possible. He was going to do his best, at least.

Shrugging mentally, he tugged off his pants, before hesitating. He usually slept naked, but wasn't about to with Virgil already so nervous. Instead, he left his briefs on and pulled on a soft gray hoodie, trying not to feel embarrassed. Virgil was literally a part of him, he'd seen Thomas in much more compromising positions and clothing--or lack thereof--than a hoodie and briefs. Even if they'd never done this...he didn't have anything to be nervous about.

Virgil chuckled, softly, behind him and Thomas turned, feeling a flush spread over his cheeks. "What?"

"This is gonna be fun," Virgil replied, shaking his head. "Me being anxious is getting _you_ anxious, which is making me--you guessed it--more anxious. If we ever work up to actually getting naked, one of us is gonna explode."

Thomas laughed, immediately feeling better. Okay. Yeah. This was going to be interesting, but...they could do this. "Tell you what. You hold me together, and I'll try to do the same for you?"

Virgil grinned, the familiar, lopsided smile Thomas loved so much. "Do my best. Thomas...thanks. For...for coming after me. Again. You didn't have to…"

Thomas crossed back over to the bed, leaning down to cut Virgil's words off with a soft kiss. "Yeah, I did. Verge, even if you didn't want this...I had to try to make things right. You didn't deserve to be stuck alone in your room, avoiding everyone, just because I'm bad at talking to people--even myself."

"Are they all pissed at me?" Virgil asked, looking down. "I mean...Patton's probably not pissed, but he's gonna cry, and that's worse. But Logan and Roman...they are, right? Pissed?"

"No," Thomas assured him, sitting down beside Virgil and taking his hands. "No, they're not mad at you. Worried, yeah. Maybe a little pissed at me, yeah, and I don't blame them. But they're not mad at you. I think Logan actually feels guilty that his proposed plan for that evening went so far off the rails."

Virgil smiled, a little shakily. "He would. He's not good at handling being wrong."

"He doesn't see as many upsides to it as you do," Thomas said, shrugging. "We can help him with it sometime. But for now...you want to go to sleep?"

Virgil nodded, squeezing Thomas's hands. "Okay. Um...which side of the bed should I…?"

"Whichever," Thomas shrugged, standing to go hit the overhead light, leaving just the bedside lamp on. When he turned back, Virgil had slid under the blankets on the right side of the bed, his bottom lip again caught between his teeth.

Thomas joined him, turning off the last lamp and climbing into bed. A moment's hesitation gripped him, his stomach clenching with sudden fear of what he was doing, if it was right, if he should close the space between them or just stay where he was, if…

He shook it off, thinking ruefully that Virgil was right. They were going to keep working each other up...but thankfully they both knew ways to deal with it, too. He took a deep breath and crossed the incredible gulf of sheet between them, pulling Virgil firmly against his chest.

And the fear eased, faded, as Virgil snuggled in against him, tangling their bare legs together under the blankets. "Thanks," he whispered softly.

"Like I said...I've got you," Thomas replied, holding him close. "My turn to keep you safe, for once."

Virgil's breath caught in a soft gasp, and he shivered, the tension seeping out of him, his body gradually becoming a heavy weight against Thomas. "Thomas…"

"I love you, Verge," Thomas whispered. "Get some rest."

* * *


	7. Virgil, Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to RandomSlasher and Parsnipit!
> 
> And I have given up trying to predict how many parts this is going to be. I think probably two more?

Virgil had still been there when Thomas woke the next morning. 

Thomas had been half afraid that he'd wake up to find it had all been a dream. Instead, he'd had Virgil curled up against him, his head resting on Thomas's shoulder, one leg thrown over both of Thomas's, and his breath ghosting warm and soft over Thomas's neck.

He hadn't talked in his sleep, like Patton, nor had he snored as gustily as Roman. Instead, Virgil was an _incredibly_ cuddly sleeper. And he'd _stayed_ cuddly even after falling asleep, unlike Logan, who always was perfectly content to hold Thomas as they drifted off, but was inevitably apart from him when they woke. 

No, Virgil had still been curled in against him, as if Thomas might disappear if he let go.

And over the following few weeks, there'd been only a couple nights that Thomas _hadn't_ had Virgil pressed against him, his body pliant and unguarded in sleep

Virgil was trusting him more in the light of day, now, too. The first morning they'd woken together, he'd been awkward, unsure, his fears filling Thomas and twisting in his belly. Thomas had pulled him close, forcing himself to breath evenly, deeply, until Virgil could do the same.

But as the days passed and Thomas continued to reassure Virgil of his interest, his love, Virgil had began, slowly, to relax. Thomas was still careful--the last thing he wanted to do was move too fast, to hurt Virgil, when he was risking so much of himself--but Virgil seemed to slowly start to believe in Thomas's interest.

Virgil was also beginning to trust that Thomas wasn't offering some kind of pity sex, especially considering they hadn't had _any_ yet. Oh, they'd made out more than once, pressed together on the couch while a movie played on, ignored, in the background. Virgil's hands would be buried in Thomas's hair, his usually deep voice going high as he whimpered against Thomas's lips. But Thomas hadn't taken things any further. He didn't want Virgil to think that was all this was about. That Thomas only wanted him for sex, just because he was the last side and Thomas had been with the others.

So instead, he wooed him. The other three were all completely secure in their roles in Thomas's life, in what they meant to him. Even Roman, who feared failing, still knew he was _important_ to Thomas. But despite everything they'd been through--going to Virgil's room, convincing him to come back--Thomas knew part of Virgil still believed Thomas was better off without him. Couldn't believe that Thomas _wanted_ him around, he didn't just _need_ him. And Thomas was determined to prove otherwise, no matter how long it took.

So there'd been home-cooked dinners, movie nights, lazy afternoons spent together. Thomas had started checking in with Virgil before putting on music, asking if there was anything he wanted to hear. At Logan's suggestion, he'd read several puzzle books, just so they'd appear in the mindscape library and Virgil could have them for himself. He'd been sure to really _listen_ to Virgil, when they were all together, making certain that any objection he brought up was completely answered, and that even when Thomas didn't take his advice, Virgil knew why.

It seemed to be working. Virgil was more relaxed than Thomas could ever remember seeing him before. The dark circles under his eyes were more eyeshadow than bruising now, and he smiled much more easily. Best of all, the fear and hesitation Thomas had felt every time they'd been alone, every time he'd gone to initiate a hug, or kiss, or cuddling, was slowly but surely fading away.

But it wasn't gone completely, and they still hadn't gone much further than kissing. Thomas had decided that, as much as he wanted Virgil, he wasn't going to suggest they do more until Virgil seemed ready, or asked for it himself. Thomas could wait. True, he'd taken some very long showers in the last couple weeks--and more than a few cold ones. But making sure Virgil was comfortable was worth any of his own discomfort.

In fast, as well as things were going, Thomas almost forgot Virgil was also Anxiety.

Until they were both forcibly reminded.

***

"So Patton's trying to finish reading us this story, but it's super late, and you know Patton--anything past ten pm and he's out. So he was falling asleep, right?" Virgil grinned, leaning back in his chair and pushing aside his empty plate. "And he kept _trying_ to read out loud, but his eyes were closing and he wasn't really _reading_ , just saying, like...dream nonsense. So suddenly instead of _A Christmas Carol_ he's telling us about a kingdom full of people made out of dry pasta noodles who are worried about a flood."

"You're _kidding_ ," Thomas breathed, leaning forward in his chair and trying not to laugh at the image.

Virgil smirked at him, arching one eyebrow. "It's Logan's fault for being pedantic and insisting the book was better than the Muppets' version," he said. "If he'd just let us put on the movie, Patton could've fallen asleep halfway through like he usually does." 

"Uh huh. So you weren't involved at _all,_ is what you're telling me?"

"I was an innocent bystander," Virgil assured him. "I mean...I probably didn't _have_ to challenge Logan to _prove_ the book was better, no. But Patton offered to read it to us without any prompting from me."

"None whatsoever, huh?" 

"Okay. WIth _minimal_ prompting from me." 

Thomas laughed, setting his wine glass down. "Thank goodness you weren't trying to instigate anything. Who knows how it would've turned out."

"Exactly." 

A moment's silence fell as Virgil smiled back at him. After a few seconds, though, he dropped his gaze to the table, fingers playing in condensation from his glass, a flush rising in his cheeks. "This was...this was nice. Is nice."

"It really is," Thomas replied, trying to answer the quiet hesitance he heard in Virgil's tone. "Thanks for helping with the cooking."

Virgil shrugged. "I just stirred, you put it all together." But he smiled again, his shoulders relaxing once more.

"I still appreciate it," Thomas said. He stretched, looking over the remains of their dinner, mostly just crumbs and smears of alfredo sauce. "Do you want to pick out a movie or something while I clean up?"

Virgil nodded, heading over into the living room as Thomas cleared the table and put their dishes in the dishwasher. By the time he'd finished, Virgil had selected not a movie, but a Spotify playlist. "Is this okay?" he asked, as a song Thomas recognized--but would never have expected--began playing quietly through room. Not MCR or Evanescence, or any of Virgil's usual choices...this was Elvis Presley's 'Can't Help Falling In Love.' Huh.

Thomas joined him, wrapping his arms around Virgil from behind and pressing a soft kiss against the back of his neck. "It's great," he assured him, as Virgil turned around in his arms, sliding his own up around Thomas's neck.

Thomas smiled, wrapping his arms around Virgil's waist, turning the hug into a dance. Virgil ducked his head, but went along with it, pressing his body against Thomas's and swaying along with him, resting his head on Thomas's shoulder.

Thomas leaned his own head against Virgil's, and began singing along softly. "Shall I stay, would it be a sin, if I can't help falling in love with you?"

"Thomas..." Virgil breathed, hiding his face against Thomas's neck, his skin hot and flushed. But he didn't tell him to stop, and he moved along with him, pressing closer.

"Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling so it goes, some things are meant to be." Thomas sang on, losing himself in the music, the feel of Virgil against him, the sheer contentment and perfection of the moment. "Take my hand, take my whole life, too. For I can't help falling in love with you. No, I can't help falling in love with you."

Virgil sighed shakily against him, as the song faded out, and drew back to meet Thomas's eyes. After a moment, he surged forward, pressing his lips to Thomas's. A soft whimper escaped him, and Thomas shuddered, feeling heat coil in his belly with unexpected sudden intensity. When Virgil finally drew away, the song was long over, and Nat King Cole was singing 'Unforgettable' while they stared at each other, trying to catch their breath.

"Thomas...do you want to...to move to the couch?" Virgil asked shyly, his voice breathless.

Thomas nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah...yeah," he agreed. Romantic music instead of a movie, Virgil initiating a kiss like _that_...this was adding up to something interesting.

He let Virgil pull him over to the couch, sitting down only to suddenly find his lap full, as Virgil settled, straddling him, pressing in for another kiss. Thomas groaned against his mouth, his hands coming up to grip Virgil's hips, his belly tightening as Virgil shifted against him.

With an effort, he broke the kiss, looking up to met Virgil's eyes. "Verge, are you...are you sure?" he asked.

Virgil nodded, his cheeks red but his face determined. "Fuck yeah. I...I want you, Thomas."

Thomas groaned, his hips bucking up against him at the words. "Oh God," he moaned, his head falling back. Virgil took the opportunity to lean in and press his mouth against Thomas's neck, breath hot on his skin.

Running his hands up under Virgil's hoodie--and the shirt beneath it--Thomas undulated beneath him, pressing closer. His cock swelled as Virgil sucked and bit softly, his teeth scraping against Thomas's throat, sending shivers skating beneath his skin. "Think I...I finally get the vampire thing," Thomas moaned breathlessly.

Virgil didn't reply--not even to snark back--just pressed in again. He squirmed, seeming to try to get closer, hips moving in small, aborted movements against Thomas. Each shift and rub seemed to make Thomas _harder_ and he pressed eagerly back.

Only to realize, through the haze of growing pleasure, two things at once. One, frustrated fear and worry not his own were suddenly rising in him, closing his throat and bringing tears to his eyes, and two, there was no answering hardness pressing against him.

Together these realizations crashed over him like a bucket of cold water, effectively killing his arousal. He wanted Virgil to _enjoy_ this, and from what Thomas could feel, he really, really wasn't. "Verge...Verge, hang on," he said, easing Virgil back far enough to see his face. Only to see actual tears running down his cheeks. Thomas felt sick.

"I'm sorry," Virgil mumbled, dropping his head, his lanky limbs all trying to close in around him at once, his arms folding tight over his chest. "Shit, I'm _sorry_."

"You haven't done anything to be sorry for," Thomas assured him, pushing through the lump in his throat and the sickness twisting his stomach. What was going on here? "Verge, sweetheart...what's wrong?"

"I'm fucking this up." Virgil's jaw clenched and he swallowed audibly. "Big surprise, right? God damn it…"

"Hey, hey…" Thomas slid his hands up and down Virgil's back, trying to soothe him. God, he was _shaking_. "You're not messing anything up. If you're not ready for this, if you _never_ want to do this, that's _okay_. I...God, Verge, I don't want you to do something you don't want to for me. I'd _never_ want that."

Virgil snorted softly, scrubbing at his face with one sleeve-covered fist. "Yeah...yeah, I know," he sighed, sliding off Thomas's lap and curling himself up on the couch beside him, arms around his knees. "It's...it's not that."

"Then...what?" Thomas asked, Virgil's fear still coiling through him. He turned to the side, resisting reaching out to Virgil again until he knew if he would welcome it. "If you're ace or…"

"I'm not," Virgil didn't look up, his fingers nervously playing with loose threads on the cuff of his jeans. "I'm just...broken or something. I...fuck, Thomas, I want you. I want you so fucking bad, I've jerked myself raw thinking about it. And now it's _happening_ , you actually fucking _want me back_ and I…I..." 

"And you what?" Thomas asked softly, pushing away the mental images Virgil's words brought up. God. What was _wrong_?

Virgil groaned, hiding his face completely. "I...I _can't_ ," he mumbled. "I want you, and it won't...I just…"

" _What_ , Verge?"

"I...I can't get hard," Virgil admitted finally, flinching as he said it. "I want you, I swear, but it just...it won't happen, not when I'm actually with you, and I can't make it, and I've tried, and…"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down," Thomas said, as Virgil's voice got faster and faster, edging closer and closer toward panic. He'd deal with Virgil's surprising confession in a moment, but first he had to get him calmed down. He took a deep breath himself, reaching over to rub Virgil's back, gently. "Breathe, okay?"

Virgil nodded miserably, but his breathing dropped into the familiar four-seven-eight rhythm as Thomas counted for him. And gradually the growing panic and fear subsided, though the pain remained. "Sorry."

"You don't have to be." Thomas continued rubbing Virgil's back as things began to fall into place. He hadn't expected this, no, but it certainly explained Virgil's reaction. And every time it'd happened had to have made Virgil more anxious, which would've made it more likely to happen again...he'd probably been working himself up over it for awhile now. "It's okay."

"How is it _okay_?" Virgil asked, hugging his knees tighter. "You've already been waiting for weeks for me to just...get my shit together, and now even when I try, I can't...I can't even get turned on right."

"Verge…" Thomas paused, trying to get his thoughts together. There was a lot to deal with, here, and he didn't want to hurt Virgil, or get it wrong. Saying he didn't care probably wouldn't help, it'd make it seem like he didn't want him. And saying he _did_ care would convince Virgil everything was lost. "Okay. First off, I have not been waiting for you to get yourself together. I've been enjoying spending time with you, and I would've been okay if you'd never wanted to do more. Okay?" He waited for Virgil to nod, before going on. "Second, there's no 'right' way to do this. We just...do what ends up working for us."

"What if nothing does?" Virgil asked, staring down at his bare toes. 

"Something will," Thomas said firmly. He might not have a lot of experience here, but he knew one thing: if Virgil wanted it to happen, then Thomas would find a way to make it happen, and he'd find a way to make it good for him. Virgil _deserved_ to feel good, maybe more than any of them. "I promise, Verge. We can figure out ways to make it happen. Hey..." he reached out and squeezed Virgil's ankle. "Can you look at me, sweetheart?"

Virgil hesitated, but finally turned his head, and met Thomas's gaze. His eyes were still wet, his cheeks marred by eyeshadow lined tear tracks where he hadn't managed to scrub them clean. He looked utterly miserable, and Thomas wanted to just hug him close and protect him forever. "What?"

"I love you. I want you to be happy, to feel good. To enjoy yourself. I want all of that a heck of a lot more than I want to...to fuck you," Thomas said, feeling his cheeks heat. "Okay?"

"You are so cute when you try to curse," Virgil said, smiling wanly. He let out another sigh, leaning back against the couch cushions, releasing his tight grip on his own legs. "Okay. I just...I hate that I'm so much fucking _work_ for you. That I can't just be...be like Patton, or Roman, and be _fun_."

"I know," Thomas said, reaching over and taking Virgil's hand in both his own. "But sometimes the things you have to work for mean more to you in the long run, if they're worth it. And you _are_ , Verge." He lifted Virgil's hand and kissed his palm, gently. "Besides," he added. "We have fun, too."

Virgil gave him a half smile, fingers tightening around Thomas's. "Yeah, emotional meltdowns and sexual dysfunction. I'm a fucking treat."

"Stop it," Thomas said gently. "I wouldn't let anyone else talk about you like that, what makes you think you're different?"

"I'm cuter?" Virgil offered wryly. "Okay, okay. Sorry. Um...do you want to just put a movie on or something? Try to salvage this?"

Thomas hesitated. He could let Virgil choose a movie, could let him pretend all of this hadn't just happened, could just move past it. But he _knew_ Virgil, and it'd be a thousand times harder to bring it up again if Thomas let it go now. "I've got another idea," he said, deciding. "Will you let me try something?"

"Depends," Virgil said suspiciously. "If it's one of Roman's…"

Thomas laughed. "I think we're safe. I just want to give you a massage, if you'll let me."

Virgil blinked. "A massage? Thomas, if you're hoping for a 'happy ending' I really don't know if…"

"I'm not," Thomas cut him off. "It's not a euphemism, and I'm not expecting anything. It's maybe a little bit of an excuse to get my hands on you, yeah, I won't deny that. But just to make you feel good, to help you relax."

Virgil hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip for a few moments. But finally, he squared his shoulders and nodded. "Okay. As long as you won't be disappointed when I...when it doesn't change anything."

"I won't, because I'm not expecting it to," Thomas promised him. He squeezed Virgil's hand again, then stood and gently tugged him to his feet. He kissed Virgil, a soft, almost chaste press of lips. "Go wash your face and take a minute alone if you need it. Just meet me in the bedroom when you're ready?"

Virgil nodded, sniffling. "'Kay. Um...thank you. For...just...yeah. Thanks."

"You're welcome, sweetheart," Thomas replied, squeezing his hand one last time before releasing him. "See you in a few minutes."

* * *


	8. Virgil, Part Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to my amazing beta, BFF, and queer platonic life partner, RandomSlasher. Without them this wouldn’t exist, as I got the initial idea from them! And they were an immense help all the way through. 
> 
> Also thanks to Parsnipit, who is the best cheerleader anyone could ask for! Her flailing gives me life.
> 
> And thanks to all of you, for coming on the ride with me! Hope you enjoy.

Sometime deep in the night, Thomas woke. His bedroom was dim and quiet, save for the flash of passing headlights and the sound of tires on wet pavement. They faded as the offending car left the apartment complex parking lot, and he could hear the gentle sound of rain pattering against the windows.

But best of all, he could feel Virgil, warm and heavy against him, his head resting on Thomas's shoulder. Thomas slid his arm around him, gently trailing his fingers up and down his back and Virgil sighed in his sleep, shifting against Thomas, pressing in tighter.

The massage had been a good idea, Thomas decided. Virgil had been uncomfortable, at first, but he'd gradually relaxed as Thomas proved he _wasn't_ interested in anything other than the massage itself. And it'd been nice, really nice, to be able to focus that much on Virgil, to make him feel good. Cared for.

By the time Virgil had finished in the bathroom, Thomas had managed to get his room ready. He'd put on soothing music, had plugged in fairy lights and lit a couple candles, and even found some decent smelling sandalwood lotion in the downstairs bathroom. Not massage oil, maybe, but it'd worked just as well.

It'd taken Thomas a couple minutes to convince Virgil to take off his hoodie in addition to the rest of his clothes, but at last he'd stripped, laying facedown on Thomas's bed and hiding his face in his arms. And Thomas had gone to work.

Maybe it was a little conceited, but Thomas knew he gave a pretty good massage. Virgil certainly hadn't complained, not after his first initial grumbles. Instead, when he'd finally started to believe Thomas wasn't expecting anything from him, wasn't looking for a specific reaction, he'd relaxed and seemed to enjoy himself.

Thomas had taken his time, moving up from Virgil's feet, slowly, methodically, and completely relaxing each muscle group before moving on. Virgil had been tense. Thomas had expected that, of course, but still hadn't been fully prepared for just _how_ tense. It'd taken time and a light starting touch to avoid pressing in too deeply too soon.

But as he'd progressed, Virgil had relaxed further and further, his body gradually seeming to melt under Thomas's hands. Thomas had moved slowly up both legs from Virgil's feet, up his thighs, over the curve of his ass and up his his back, until no further knots or tension remained. Only then had Thomas encouraged Virgil to roll over.

Virgil had been too pliant to protest, had simply moved as Thomas directed, blinking sleepily up at him as Thomas had massaged each arm in turn, down to Virgil's hands, even his fingers, taking his time to map out every soft curve and angled plane of Virgil's body. 

He'd given Virgil's front the same attention as his back, keeping the touch as comforting, as soothing as he could. Once Virgil had rolled over Thomas had, of course, been aware of the fact that he was naked, that Thomas could see every part of him...but this wasn't about that. It was about making Virgil feel good, feel safe.

So Thomas had ignored the small part of himself that wanted to turn things sexual, and had instead concentrated on the massage. He hadn't missed the way that Virgil's cock had twitched to half-hardness more than once as he worked, though it didn't go much past that, not when it didn't get any further attention.

When he'd finally finished, Virgil had been more than half-asleep. Thomas had roused him only long enough to drink a glass of water before tucking him into bed with a soft kiss. It had only taken him a few minutes to clean up, strip down to his briefs, and blow out the candles. But Virgil had been completely out by the time Thomas slid into bed next to him, his skin pale and almost luminous in the soft glow of the fairy lights.

Still, he'd cuddled against Thomas even in sleep, letting out a long, soft sigh when Thomas had wrapped his arms around him and kissed the back of his neck, fitting himself in along Virgil's back, spooning him. He'd fallen asleep himself, not long after.

Another car drove by outside, the room again lighting briefly up with the passing lights, and Thomas stretched. It was too early to get up, too late to be awake, but he felt no particular urge to fall back asleep. 

Especially not as he realized that, while most of him might be asleep, there was one very insistently awake portion of Virgil's anatomy poking Thomas directly in the hip. 

_Oh_.

Thomas bit his lip, feeling a wave of arousal wash over him. Virgil seemed to respond to it, shifting against Thomas and lazily thrusting his hips against him in search of friction. Oh _damn_. No way he could let Virgil sleep through this... "Verge?" he murmured, shaking him lightly.

Virgil groaned, shaking his head against Thomas's shoulder. "Ngh. Nighttime."

Thomas couldn't help a soft laugh, even as his cheeks flushed. "I know. But, uh...thought you might want to be awake for this?"

"Huh?" Virgil lifted his head, shifting his weight, then froze, his erection twitching hard enough for Thomas to feel it. "Oh. Oh _fuck_ …"

"Not quite, but it's heading that way," Thomas said, as lightly as he could, glad it was too dark for Virgil to see his face. God, he didn't want to say the wrong thing, to make Virgil panic or tense up.

"Shut up, Sanders, you'll scare it," Virgil hissed back, his voice a little shaky.

Thomas managed to suppress that laugh that bubbled up through his chest, bursting into shots of happiness to hear Virgil sounding so much like _himself_. "Don't want to do that," he agreed lightly, smoothing his hand down Virgil's back to cup his ass, pressing him closer.

Virgil groaned, grinding in against Thomas's hip. " _Shit_...Thomas…" He raised his head, meeting Thomas's eyes in the soft light, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, his brow furrowed. Thomas resisted the urge to pull him down and kiss him senseless, knowing it was important to let Virgil set the pace, to give him as much control over this as he could. But Thomas wanted to pull him close, to overwhelm the worries and fears he could distantly feel running through Virgil's mind with his touch, his presence, his love.

Whatever Virgil had been looking for in Thomas's face, he seemed to have found it. He nodded to himself, and rolled his hips forward again, still just as hard against Thomas. "So…" he drawled, one side of his mouth turning up in a smirk. "Can't help noticing I'm naked and you're pretty close to it."

"Looks like it," Thomas agreed, realizing he had a wide, silly grin on his face and not caring in the slightest. He'd been wondering what this would be like with Virgil since before he'd known his name. He'd expected nervousness, hesitation, fear. He hadn't expected that nervousness to translate itself to skittering excitement under his skin, a buzz of giddy energy that made him want to laugh aloud. He hadn't expected the hesitation to be a desire to not rush this, to make it last, to experience every moment as fully as he could.

And he'd _never_ expected the fear to be completely absent, softened and eased with the surety of love. Virgil had never been afraid _of_ him. He was afraid _for_ him. That Thomas would be hurt, would be disappointed, would lose what he had pursuing what he wanted.

But in this moment, Thomas _had_ what he wanted, smiling down at him.

"You're a sap," Virgil accused, but his lopsided grin had turned into a touched smile. He leaned down, and kissed Thomas thoroughly. He broke free at last, resting his forehead against Thomas's, their lips a breath apart. "And I love you, too." 

Thomas pressed up again, capturing Virgil's mouth again, one hand coming up to play in Virgil's hair. Here Virgil again showed no hesitation, not after the last few weeks they'd spent making out on the couch at all hours. He pressed eagerly in, still moving against Thomas as their tongues slid against each other. 

When Thomas finally pulled back to breathe, Virgil grinned down at him, relaxed, comfortable, _happy_ , in a way Thomas had never thought he'd see him. It more than made everything it'd taken to get this moment worth it, to see Virgil like this. "Verge…"

Virgil's grin widened. "So...wanna fuck me?"

"Virgil!" Thomas couldn't hold back a surprised laugh. He pulled Virgil close, rolling them over to settle between Virgil's legs and brace himself above him. His heart squeezed when Virgil actually _giggled_ in return. Because yes, yes he did, but hearing it so...so casual, so easy, from _Virgil_ …

Instead of dwelling on it, he dropped a kiss against Virgil's nose, smiling when it wrinkled up in answer. "Yeah," he answered, rolling his hips down, slowly thrusting his cloth-covered cock against Virgil's bare one. "Yeah, I do. Unless you want to, um...to do that to...to me?" he added, blushing fiercely.

Virgil raised an eyebrow, his cock jumping hard against Thomas's. He blinked, looking down between them. "I think someone's in favor of that, at least," he said conversationally, only a slight breathlessness to his voice echoing the sudden hot desire Thomas could feel welling through both of them.

"Don't want to...to disappoint him," Thomas offered, certain he'd never been as red as he was right now.

"He might decide to go back into hiding," Virgil snorted. He wriggled carefully out from under Thomas and sat up, settling next to him with his legs crossed as Thomas sat back on his heels. "Thomas...are you sure? I mean...yeah. Yeah, I want to, but it's...I mean…"

"You won't hurt me," Thomas said, guessing what was behind Virgil's hesitation. He saw it hit the mark, as Virgil's lips twitched and he rolled his eyes at himself. "Verge, of anyone, you're the _least_ likely to hurt me. And, um...you can tell, right? What I'm feeling? So you'll know…"

Virgil nodded slowly. "Yeah...yeah, that's true. Okay. Well, since you apparently want it, and I'm obviously still..." he waved vaguely at his lap, where his cock was apparently trying to make up for its lack of cooperation earlier by standing stiffly erect, bobbing as he moved, "I'm not going to argue."

"I do want it," Thomas assured him, not caring how embarrassed part of him was. Not when it had Virgil looking at him like _that_ , all desire and heat. "You. I...I want you in me."

Virgil groaned, reaching down and wrapping his hand around himself, squeezing. "Oh holy _fuck_...say that again?"

Thomas grinned shyly, his mouth going dry. "I want you inside me, Verge," he repeated, the double meaning of the words not lost on him. "I want to...to feel you. Please?"

"Fuck, yes," Virgil moaned. "Lie...lie back?"

Thomas did as he was told, pushing the blankets to the side as Virgil dug about in the bedside table. By the time he'd retrieved the bottle of lube, Thomas had pulled his briefs off and relaxed back on the bed, excitement once again skittering under his skin.

Virgil had been right, each of them could feel the others nerves, and they _were_ working each other up...but Thomas could absolutely live with this kind of feedback loop. 

Apparently so could Virgil. He was smiling as he climbed back onto the bed, knee walking over to Thomas and gently urging his legs apart. Thomas shyly let them spread open, licking his lips when Virgil settled between them. "You might be more comfortable if you rolled over," Virgil offered, sliding one hand up Thomas's thigh, making his skin shiver and twitch.

Thomas shook his head. "I...um. I want to be able to see you."

Virgil ducked his head, but not before Thomas saw him smiling. "Sap," he accused again, with no heat. "Toss me a pillow, then."

Thomas did, and lifted his hips obligingly as Virgil slid it under them. "You're a sap, too," he pointed out, relaxing back and spreading himself wider, anticipation welling within him.

"Yeah, but don't tell anyone," Virgil said, grinning up at him. "I've got a reputation to maintain. You good?"

Thomas laughed softly and nodded, tipping his hips up in invitation. "Mmmhmm. Please?"

"Fuck," Virgil breathed again, just looking at him for a moment before reaching for the lube again. "Can't believe I actually get to do this," he murmured, low enough that Thomas was pretty sure he was talking mostly to himself.

"As often as you want," Thomas assured him, flushing but knowing it was true. God, he'd do practically _anything_ to keep that soft, amazed, glorious smile on Virgil's face. That this was something he wanted just as much...he was a lucky guy.

"Nah, I'll have to make sure you eat occasionally," Virgil said wryly, sliding one hand slowly up Thomas's thigh, then curling it around his cock. Thomas groaned, his head tipping back as his hips thrust up into the loose grip. "Fuck, _look_ at you," Virgil breathed.

"Verge, _please_ …" Thomas whimpered, starting to feel almost lightheaded with arousal, with how _much_ he wanted Virgil inside him, wanted to feel him.

"Yeah," Virgil agreed, shaking himself loose of the spell that had seemed to come over him. Thomas heard the snap of a plastic cap, and a moment later felt the soft, slick touch of Virgil's other hand between his legs.

"Ohhhh..." Thomas breathed, pressing in against it. He whimpered again, when the gentle pressure increased, and cried out as his hole spasmed open and Virgil's finger slipped inside. "Oh _God_ …" If he was reacting like this just from being prepped, how was he even going to make it through Virgil actually...actually...

"It's okay," Virgil said, his low voice curling through the fog of arousal and giving Thomas something to focus on. "It's okay, Thomas, you're doing fine. Just breathe, okay?"

Thomas sucked in a breath of air, then another, realizing ruefully he'd practically been forgetting to. Gradually he relaxed again, slowly thrusting up against Virgil's touch. It felt...God, it felt _good_ , feeling his finger move, slick and solid inside him.

"There you go," Virgil murmured, a touch of relief in his voice that again made Thomas's heart squeeze. "Ready for more?"

Thomas nodded, not quite trusting his voice. And while he did his best to remember to breathe, he gave into the sensation of Virgil slowly opening him, working to make him ready. Virgil's other hand stroked Thomas's cock, gathering the liquid seeping from the tip and smearing it down his length.

Thomas rocked, back and forth between Virgil's hands, at once wanting things to last, for this too go on as long as possible, and for Virgil to finish and push into him. But finally, Virgil pulled back, sliding his fingers free. Thomas groaned at the loss of him, just keeping his hips from arching up again as Virgil sat back.

"I think...I think you're ready," Virgil managed, his voice hoarse.

"Please, Verge," Thomas breathed, reaching one hand for him, desire coiling sharply through him. "Want you…"

Virgil cursed under his breath but slid forward, bracing himself over Thomas. Thomas felt the blunt head of his cock nudge against him and groaned, just barely managing to keep still as Virgil lined himself up.

And then. Oh _then_.

Virgil pressed in, the soft nudge becoming a firm, deep _slide_ as he pressed Thomas open, slick and firm and wonderful. 

"Oh _fuck_ …" Thomas arched up to meet him, treasuring the stretching pressure as Virgil slid home, filling him perfectly. "Oh God, Verge, oh _God_ …"

He heard Virgil gasping above him, and Thomas opened his eyes to see him trembling. Virgil fell forward, collapsing onto Thomas, his head burying in against his chest, his body shaking like a leaf. " _Th-Thomas_ …"

Thomas wrapped his arms around Virgil, holding him close. "Hey, hey, I've got you," he murmured, pushing away some of the sensations to focus on Virgil. He seemed okay, just...overwhelmed, from what Thomas could tell.

Well. He wasn't alone there.

Making a decision, Thomas held Virgil closer and carefully rolled them over, until Virgil was beneath him and he was straddling his lap, Virgil still buried deep with him. "Let me take care of you," he murmured, sitting back and sinking down.

Virgil stared up at him, his eyes wide, pupils blown in the dim light, apparently beyond speech. Instead, Thomas concentrated on other signs. He listened, as Virgil gasped softly when he rose up and groaned deeply as he sank back down again. He watched, as Virgil's eyelids flickered, as his head tipped back, his chest and face flushed red. He felt it, when Virgil's hips began to roll up to meet him, thrusting in time.

And he _definitely_ noticed when Virgil's hand closed around his cock, stroking it back to full hardness. He glanced up, to see Virgil watching him again, eyes half-hooded, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his fingers stroked up, up over the head of Thomas's cock, then twisted, tightened, giving resistance as Thomas thrust forward into them. Only to sink back and feel Virgil fill him once more.

Part of Thomas felt like he could've stayed like that forever, caught between Virgil's hand and his cock, rocking back and forth, riding him in perfect abandon. But gradually, thrust by thrust, his arousal crept higher and higher. He held it off, longer than he ever could've before Logan and his edging, before all of this. He kept himself moving, until at last he felt Virgil's rhythm break, his breathing catch.

"Fuck...fuck, Thomas, I'm gonna...I'm... _fuck_ …"

And as Virgil's hips snapped up, he did, spilling warm and slick inside him as Thomas finally let go of his own control, following him over the edge, his release painting Virgil's stomach as he spasmed around him.

***

Afterwards, when Thomas had grabbed his discarded briefs to at least make an attempt to clean them up, both too drained to make it even to the bathroom, when they lay heavy together once more, when their breathing had returned to normal, Thomas again looked up at the ceiling. The room was lightening now, dawn beginning to break outside.

"What're you thinking about?" Virgil asked sleepily, fingers tracing invisible patterns over Thomas's skin.

Thomas slid his fingers through Virgil's hair, smiling at the question. "Sappy stuff," he admitted. "That I love you. That I'm glad this happened. That I'm sorry it took us so long to get here." Virgil hugged him more tightly and Thomas pressed a kiss against his hair. "That I hope the others weren't listening in."

Virgil snorted. "They probably were. Perverts."

Thomas flushed. "Oh, don't tell me that."

Virgil giggled, lifting his head. "C'mon, Thomas, they can sense what you're doing, same as me. It probably turned them on. They probably had a threesome right in the mindscape."

"Verge!" Thomas's blush deepened. "Do you...do you guys do that? With...I mean...each other?"

Virgil laughed and snuggled back against him. "You are so cute, Thomas. Yeah, we all have sex pretty often. Well... _they_ do."

Thomas frowned, feeling a surge of concern--was Virgil still being left out? Where the others excluding him?--but then Virgil glanced at him, eyes soft and touched. 

"I join them sometimes," he added. "Not too often, but...sometimes. And they always make sure I know I'm welcome." He fell silent for a moment, studying Thomas's face, then blushed and murmured, "But...thank you. For worrying about me." 

Thomas leaned down and kissed him softly. "That's my job, right?" 

Virgil huffed. "Thought it was _my_ job to worry about _you_?" 

"Guess we'll have to worry about each other," Thomas said. "Compromise." 

Virgil kissed him again, long and deep. Then he drew back and grinned. "I gotta say," he said, "I'm surprised Roman hasn't invited you for an orgy yet."

"Is he _planning_ to?" Thomas squeaked, at once embarrassed and intrigued. Oh God. 

"He's mentioned it before," Virgil said around a yawn. He stretched, before snuggling up against Thomas again, relaxing against him. "If he does, you should say yes. It's...it's good, with them. Be better with all of us."

Thomas smiled, feeling Virgil growing heavier against him as he slipped off to sleep. He watched the room grow lighter, color gradually seeping back into the world, as he thought about the last six months. Of Logan's precise, intense regard, often kinky, always satisfying. Of Patton's laughter and joy, play equally mixed with pleasure. Of Roman, drama and fantasy overlaying his true, pure heart, his desire to serve and please with every moment.

And of Virgil, his beautiful, sweet, snarky edgelord, so determined to protect Thomas, even from himself. So willing to sacrifice his own happiness for Thomas's. He'd been so hesitant to trust, but once he had…

Thomas blinked back tears, heart aching with gratitude for the man in his arms. He'd never expected this, and he didn't know what it meant, going forward. But he found he didn't really care.

Because Virgil was right. 

It _was_ good.


End file.
